Underexposed
by daisy3853
Summary: When Jasper walks into her photography classroom, Bella knows nothing of his broken past. All she knows is what she feels: an immediate connection to a beautiful stranger. Rated M for language and violent themes. AH.
1. Underexposed

**Just a quick note - this story was originally written for the For the Love of Jasper contest. If you've already read the o/s, that's still chapter one. The continuation picks up with chapter 2. This story deals also deals with physical abuse, so if you're sensitive please be cautious.  
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**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I own my camera. ;-)**

**To see other entries in the "For the Love of Jasper" contest, please visit the C2:**

**www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/For_the_Love_of_Jasper_Contest/72564/**

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"**Love is not consolation. It is light." Friedrich Nietzsche**

My foot taps nervously under the table, without my permission or approval. As I take in my surroundings, I can't help but feel insecure. I see expensive, shiny black plastic and aluminum as my fingers smooth over the rough metal body of my old Nikon 35 mm. It might be older than I am, but it's reliable and comfortable. I always have it with me just in case.

I force myself to take a deep breath. After three years in the photography program, I really am confident in my own abilities. An expensive camera doesn't make up for mediocre talent, and my classic can still capture some extraordinary images. My dad gave me this camera when I turned six. He took me on his knee to help me load the film, and I watched in awe as he wound it, grinning excitedly when I heard it click. I would lean in close, my ear inches away, holding my breath. He taught me to be patient and wait for that sound, because if the film didn't catch right, I'd end up with no pictures.

I remember when he first handed it to me; I felt like a superhero with something so heavy and special in my hands. I held the power to catch a moment, freeze a frame, or bring something out of hiding. He set it to automatic for me and spent hours watching me hunt down anything I could think of to capture. He chased me through the fields behind our house, pointing out ladybugs and pretty flowers, or helping me advance the film since my little fingers weren't quite strong enough to move the lever yet. We dropped the film off together before school one day, and I bounced in the car the whole way home after we picked up the prints. They were almost all out of focus, but even today I still feel the same surge of pride when I see the results of my latest adventure. My dad told me they were abstracts, and still has my first fuzzy blur of a ladybug hanging in his office.

My memories of my childhood almost all involve my camera and my dad, and he really opened my eyes to the potential for beauty in everyday life. Since then I've learned that, from behind my camera, I can observe without influencing or affecting. I can capture beauty without disturbing it, and preserve what I see so it's never lost.

Photographs are all I have left of my mother; I lost her before I could remember her. Her pictures show me that I have her slightly crooked nose, her pale porcelain skin and her wide brown eyes. Memories fade, but my photographs are tangible, meant to last forever.

My foot slows gradually as I feel a sense of calm confidence wash over me. I hear the door open again; slow and steady footsteps move toward me, the unmistakable scuffle of boots. They stop in front of me and I see the well-worn toes poking out underneath the ragged hemline of a faded pair of jeans.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I hear a soft and smooth voice and my eyes shoot up, locking immediately on a pair of brilliant blue eyes framed by long blond lashes and a gently tanned face. His honey-toned hair is wavy and long, reaching just past his ears, with several wayward strands falling across his forehead. He raises an eyebrow questioningly, and I am reminded to speak.

"Just Bella, my name is Bella," I mumble quickly.

"Just Bella," he counters in a subtle drawl, the corners of his mouth turning up just a bit as he dips his head politely. "I'm Jasper Whitlock. Is this seat taken?"

Jasper gestures to the empty half of my table, and I shake my head in answer. He makes his way around the corner to slide into the empty chair. Our eyes meet; he glances away shyly and I feel the nerves begin to creep up again. I don't understand where these new emotions are coming from; this isn't the same feeling of insecurity I'm so used to. There's something palpable between us, pulling me toward him, and I want to reach out and touch him; at the same time I worry about what will happen if I do. Instead I observe, as always. The tension in the pit of my stomach keeps building. Judging by the way he keeps sneaking glances at me, I imagine he must feel it too.

Overwhelmed, I pull away and look instead at my camera, my foot once again bouncing a steady rhythm beneath the table. His fingers tap out a harmony beside me, and I smile to myself, wondering if he might be just as nervous. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him pull out an old Canon, practically identical to my own in age and wear. I think about the knock down, drag out fight I had with an old classmate over the benefits of Nikon over Canon. It's an age-old debate and if I weren't so stubborn I would have conceded that there really isn't a difference; it's all mechanics. I laugh unintentionally at the memory, and feel a brief surge of distress when I see the look on his face. He looks as insecure as I felt minutes before. I smile reassuringly and hold up my own antique.

"I'm a Nikon. I see _you're_ a part of the Dark Side."

"If by Dark Side, you mean Infinitely Better Side, yes, I'm a Canon." He smiles back at me widely, and my nerves disappear.

"It looks pretty old," I respond, immediately embarrassed by my brilliant observation.

"It is, just a little older than me. My dad gave it to me just before he died. I was eight."

I see a flash of pain in his eyes and my chest constricts suddenly. It's the same grief I see in my father when he remembers my mother. The same desolation I feel for reminding him of her. I need Jasper to know I understand.

"I'm so sorry. My mom died, too. When I was born."

He nods grimly but doesn't elaborate, and I hear our teacher clear his throat so I reluctantly look away. We both face the front as the lecture begins.

–*–*–

"_Hurry up, Rosie," I whispered, holding her hand tightly as we tiptoed out the back door. I heard Elvis start to blare from my mother's bedroom, and I knew she'd be knocked out soon. _

"_Jasper!" she screamed, throwing a bottle against the wall in anger. I heard the crash of shattering glass and started to run, tugging my little sister along with me. I hoped she could remember what it was like before he died, when we were happy. Every day since _that _day grew progressively worse for my mother. It made me wonder how much lower she could go._

"_Jasssper," Rosie whined, tugging on my hand. "You're going too fast."_

_I stopped and swung my backpack around so it fit across my chest securely, reaching behind me to grab Rosie's hands._

"_Hop up, sweetie, I'll piggy-back you."_

_She squealed in delight and jumped on, wrapping her legs around my waist, her arms a little too tight around my neck. Once we were a block away, I slowed down, feeling a little safer._

_I could already feel the bruise forming across my cheek. I closed my eyes and recalled the back of her hand as it flew toward me; my stomach lurched at the memory of the impact._

_We made it down to the park, and I could feel Rosie starting to bounce in excitement._

"_The swings! Can we go on the swings first? Please?"_

"_Sure thing, sweetie, sounds like fun."_

_I carefully set her down beside me and watched as she took off for the swing set. I brushed the hair from my face, wincing when my hand grazed my cheek._

_I pulled my old camera out of my backpack and loaded the film, winding until I heard it catch. I couldn't help but smile at the familiar sound, remembering days filled with smiles and laughter, my dad the one behind the camera. My smile immediately faded as the shooting pain erupted across my cheekbone, a reminder of why we were here instead of at home. I hung the strap around my neck and chased after my sister. I wanted to forget about my mother for awhile._

_She would fall asleep for a couple hours while I played with Rosie. I'd take some pictures of Rosie's sweet, smiling face and pretend nothing had happened, because as far as she knew, that was the truth. That was how it was going to stay, too; she was only six, and I didn't want her to think about stuff like that. Someday when we were grown up, I'd look back at my pictures and I wouldn't remember. Instead I'd see Rosie laughing while I pushed her on the swing, begging me to make her go higher._

_It wasn't much different from any other day anyway. I was like any normal 12-year-old, just taking my baby sister to the park while my mom slept it off. Right. Because that was so normal. Most of my friends were probably sitting down for family dinners right about now._

_Sometimes I wondered if my dad knew why I'd need the camera. _

_At the same time, I really hoped he hadn't._

**.*.*.**

I sit with my arms folded, head on my desk. I'm so exhausted from this week that I can hardly keep my eyes open. My toe taps the all too familiar rhythm underneath the table while I wait for Jasper to show up.

I hear the door open, and I know it's him. My nervous beat slows and then stops completely as I hear his boots shuffle toward me. I lift my head when he's in front of me, smiling as he ducks his in return.

"Bella," he grins.

He seats himself and I immediately feel the nervous energy between us beginning to build. My heart beats just a little bit faster, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching him doing the same. I feel my face flush and we both snap our attention toward the front of the classroom. The tapping begins again under the table, now accompanied by the drumming of his fingers.

Our instructor returns our last assignment, where we were supposed to represent ourselves on film without actually being in the frame. Like a self-portrait with no self. I smile, looking down at the image of my old camera with a ladybug crawling across the lens. When Jasper receives his, I can't help but look, letting out a quick gasp when I see a beautiful blonde girl sitting on a swing. Her long wavy hair is lighter than his, but she has the same bright blue eyes, just as wide and sad as his are some days.

He's staring down at her, a look I don't recognize on his face. Guilt? Sorrow? Definitely love.

"Who is she?" I murmur. He drops the picture, turning quickly to face me.

"My baby sister," he answers, a smile forming on his lips while a hint of sadness lingers in his eyes. "Well, not really baby anymore, I guess. She just turned sixteen."

His hands rest on the table, fingers tracing the outline of her portrait. I want to ask more about her, but instead I notice jagged scars covering the edge of his hand.

"Oh my gosh, Jasper. What happened to your hand?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. I mentally smack myself on the forehead, cursing the usual word vomit.

"Oh," he starts, clearly uncomfortable. My stomach begins to twist into knots, my heart beating faster. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest, crushing me painfully under his weight. "It's nothing; it's just an old scar. I fell in some broken glass when I was a kid."

I open my mouth to either apologize or ask for more information, I'm not sure which, when our professor beats me to the punch by giving us our assignment for today. We're shooting portraits of our partners with the medium format view cameras. I grin excitedly; these remind me of those old fashioned cameras you picture in a western movie. The long accordion bellows connect the lens and the viewfinder, and I imagine some gray-haired photographer in suspenders hiding underneath a black cloth, a shutter release button in his outreached hand.

We set the camera up together, then flip a coin to decide who goes first. I lose, so I'm up to bat. I would usually be nervous at this point. Part of the reason I chose photography was to hide behind the camera, not hang out in front of it. I've always been uncomfortable in the spotlight. Every time my dad looks too closely at me, he starts to see my mom. Every time, I witness the pain all over again. Every time, I feel just a little bit guilty that I took her away from him. I know I shouldn't, but I can't pretend I don't.

The idea of someone focusing on me is nauseating.

Somehow I manage to keep the butterflies at bay as I watch Jasper in all his cool confidence, adjusting the focus and loading the film plates like he's been doing it all his life. I smile shyly and turn away, embarrassed again that he'll be looking at me so closely.

He snaps a picture immediately.

"Hey!" I shout, surprised. "I wasn't ready for you to start."

"Sorry, test shot," he responds, a mischievous grin across his face. "Hey, I told you about mine… How'd you get that scar on your forehead?"

My fingers graze along the raised skin above my eyebrow almost subconsciously as I laugh in memory.

"Oh, that happened when I was about eight I guess. My dad was pushing me on the swing, and I wanted to jump off and fly when it got to the highest part, you know? Well anyway, he told me not to but I didn't listen. Needless to say, it didn't work out quite like I pictured it. I tripped when I hit the ground, and cut myself on a rock."

I still remember the way my dad picked me up and brushed me off, tilting my chin up so he could see, furrowing his brow as he took in the damage. He held my hand while we walked the block back to our house together, his thumb brushing reassuringly over the back of my hand while I tried to hold in the tears. He lifted me up onto the bathroom counter as if I weighed nothing and then reached under the sink for our first aid kit. He spoke gently about how brave I was and how proud he was of me for not crying while he carefully cleaned my cut. I winced when the hydrogen peroxide hit my skin so he cradled my cheeks between his hands and blew gently across the cut to take the edge off.

"He said it wasn't very deep, so he put a few steri-strips on instead of taking me for stitches. I think he felt pretty bad when it scarred, like he should have taken me in anyway. He's a good dad though; he does the best he can by himself."

I pause then, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach, and look up to face Jasper. His expression is anguished, his eyes tight. I realize I just told a boy with no father a touching story about how great my own is, and I'm immediately wracked with guilt. He blinks and seems to shake it off, finally speaking.

"That's pretty cute, you're lucky to have such a good dad."

I smile apologetically, and he returns it.

"Okay, Mr. Whitlock, you've done your worst," I tease, trying to change the subject. "Park your boots in front of the camera; it's your turn in the spotlight."

**.*.*.**

"_Rosie," I whispered urgently. "Rosie it's me, you can come out now."_

_I pressed my hand against the closet door, hearing her sniffles echo softly, and my heart ached more painfully than my body did._

"_Rosie, sweetie, it's okay. She fell asleep. I promise you're safe."_

_I heard the lock I installed three years ago slide out of place slowly. Mom hadn't gone after Rosie yet, but I wasn't about to give her the fucking chance. We bought it on our way home from the park after an especially bad day, and I made sure Rosie knew when it was time to hide. _

_The door cracked open the tiniest bit, revealing one blue eye, wide with fright and tinged with redness, tears still trailing down her soft cheeks. _

_I opened my arms in a reassuring invitation and gave her an encouraging nod. She only hesitated a moment longer before throwing the door open and crashing into my arms. I winced slightly on impact, but pushed my pain away as I felt my baby sister sob against my chest. I rubbed her back soothingly, gentle circles up and down her spine. I whispered comforting little nothings in her ear, and I wondered if by saying that it would be okay I was telling her a lie. Our gentle rocking motion soothed me too, and I felt a wonderful calm settle over me._

_My arms tightened around her and I felt her relax, her breathing becoming steady and deep. I knew the exact moment in which she fell asleep. She let out the softest little sigh and then her body went limp in my arms. I held her for a long time afterward, still rocking her and smoothing her hair. _

_I stood up carefully after what seemed like hours and carried her across our room to her bed. I pulled back the covers with one hand and then laid her down gently, pulling the blankets up to her chin. I brushed a wave of soft golden hair out of her face, and then noticed the blood leaking out from the bandage on my hand. I leaned over and kissed her forehead before heading to the bathroom to take care of myself._

_I peeled away the gauze to survey the damage on the outside edge of my left hand. I closed my eyes and saw a flash, remembering the bottle of tequila coming toward me as I raised my hands to cover my face. She started sobbing when she saw the blood running down my arm and insisted on taking care of me. I tried not to cringe away when she took my hand in hers. For a minute, the worry I saw reflected in her eyes reminded me that she was my mother. She wore the same expression in a picture I had hidden in my dresser drawer of the day I learned how to ride my bike. The whole roll of film was of me in various stages of action, except for the one time my dad cut back to her, capturing her wringing hands and frightened eyes. _

_I shook my head to clear it, reaching into the medicine cabinet for something to clean the cuts and a pair of tweezers. The only sound for a long time was the clink of glass as it hit the bathroom sink. The cuts weren't too deep, but after I took Rosie to school in the morning I'd probably need a couple stitches. I winced as I doused my wounds in hydrogen peroxide, feeling the bubbles dig deep and resisting the urge to blow on it. I patted the area dry with some gauze pads and slowly redressed it with clean bandages._

_It really wasn't that bad. A few more scars in the mix, but these would be easy to explain at least and I knew the bruises forming on my arms would stay hidden under a long-sleeved shirt. They were nothing compared to the marks on my back. Those might have healed, but I still couldn't look at a belt without visibly cringing. _

_I turned off the light and went back to the bedroom, locking the door to the hallway securely before climbing in my bed. I looked over at Rosie, watching her breathe slowly in and out. The moonlight made her pale little face glow, and I saw the slightest hint of a smile across her lips._

_Three more years. I would be eighteen, and I would make things right._

_I was going to get my Rosie out of here._

**.*.*.**

I wind through the maze of a hallway, trailing my fingers along the walls that have been painted a dull black to absorb the light, enough twists and turns to ensure the total loss of light once you enter the room inside.

I'm the first one in the darkroom tonight, so I switch off the lights and raise the lid on the safelights, glowing red in the middle of the room. I carry my negatives and my box of paper to my station, taking a deep breath before I begin.

This class is the last section to be taught as a film-based course. Next semester our program will go 100% digital, and I feel like a little part of me will be packed away along with this room. Digital is easy, clean, and cheap, but there's something about the uniqueness of a hand-made darkroom print; it can never be exactly duplicated by human hands. It's frustrating at times, but in the end you've created an image, literally poured your soul into it, and there it is staring back at you in print.

I sigh and pull out my negatives. Jasper should be here soon; we're really the only two students who take advantage of this extra lab time. Today I'm printing from our portrait session together. He was quiet and calm as ever in front of the camera, smiling politely and charming me with every word and expression. He didn't offer any more information about his parents, and I didn't ask, choosing instead to enjoy the comfortable banter between us.

I hear his boots in the maze, and my heart reacts immediately. He takes his place at the enlarger station next to mine, and I look up at him automatically, smiling gently. The safe lights should make everything look slightly red, but after your eyes adjust to them they sap the color out of everything. The boy before me appears in shades of gray.

"Bella," he offers, tipping his head to me as usual. I swear I'll never tire of that simple gesture.

"Hi, Jasper."

He holds my gaze for a moment; long enough to call the butterflies to attention, but when he smiles again they are at peace. I turn to my enlarger, sliding a negative into the carrier and loading it in place. My body takes over the familiar motions, focusing the light and dialing in my aperture. I set the timer, load a sheet of paper, and hold my breath.

Fourteen seconds later, I'm sliding the paper into the developer. I lift and lower the edge of the large tray rhythmically, the chemicals swirling and the first glimpses of Jasper appearing on my paper. He's smiling in this one, but I still see the sadness in his features. I sigh and use the tongs to move my print to the next tray.

As I slide down along the counter, Jasper slips his first print into the developer. I try to concentrate on agitating my own tray, but I see my own face in the periphery and turn to look closer. With each tilt of the tray, my face becomes clearer and more defined, gaining tone and contrast. The image is a candid, taken at the moment I remembered my fall from the swing. My fingers are tracing my scar delicately and I'm laughing. I don't remember hearing the shutter click.

I feel a surge of bliss pass through me, warming me down to my fingers and toes. I look up to see Jasper smiling down at my image. I study his expression, trying to decipher the emotions behind it when our eyes meet and widen simultaneously. I turn away, embarrassed at being caught staring. I move my print through the rest of the row of trays and head back to my station.

As I'm preparing my next print, he returns to my side. I'm watching, as always, out of the corner of my eye as he reaches up absently to scratch his shoulder. His hand moves under the short sleeve of his gray t-shirt, traveling up to the point of his shoulder and lifting his shirt along with it. I gasp when I see the intricate ink on skin, and he drops his hand and turns to me.

"You have a tattoo," I state, immediately thankful he can't discern my blush of embarrassment under the lights.

"I do," he laughs, because I am obvious.

"How long have you had it?"

"I got it when I turned eighteen, four years ago." I detect a strange mixture of pride and regret in his expression, and I want desperately to know more.

"It's beautiful, what does it mean?"

"It's for my sister. She's my everything."

"Can I see it again?"

He eyes me warily for a moment before lifting his sleeve. The design is so beautiful, sitting just below the joint at the very top of his arm. I don't think before reaching out to smooth my fingers over the skin, smiling and relishing the contact. My stomach drops when he flinches away from my touch, lowering his sleeve. I whisper an apology, but he shakes his head, smiling sadly before turning away. Again he leaves me aching for more. More knowledge, more touches.

Always more.

I set the timer on my enlarger again, watching the light hit my paper. Turning back to the line of trays, I drop another print in the developer, smiling once more as his face materializes before me.

**.*.*.**

_Eighteen._

_I was an adult, now. Officially._

_I could have voted, bought my first pack of cigarettes, or joined the military to celebrate._

_Instead, I sat in my wife beater and jeans in a padded chair, listening to the tattoo machine buzzing as it picked up more ink for my arm. I listened to Emmett humming a tuneless melody as he bent over my arm, touching needle to flesh and beginning the burn again._

_I had been planning this tattoo for two years. The completed design had been hidden in a moleskine under my bed for eight months. I knew what I wanted immediately, and I knew why. Working on the design reinforced the meaning behind it every day._

_Rosie._

_It was all for Rosie._

_I had signed the paperwork as soon as the courthouse opened that morning. A legal adult could take guardianship over their younger sibling if the parent lost custody. And my mother did._

_Six weeks ago, she finally laid a hand on Rosie. I should have taken her with me to the grocery store, but she didn't want to go and I hadn't thought Mom was even drinking that day. I never found out what set her off. I came home to chaos. I found Rosie locked in her closet, shaking with sobs. My mother had fallen asleep on the couch. We contacted CPS that day to set the wheels in motion. Her fresh bruises and my scars were enough, they immediately removed both of us to temporary foster care. My social worker helped me work everything out and talk to the judge: I had to prove I could take care of her, but I already had a stable job at the library and had been saving every penny for the last three years. I knew one day we'd have to make our escape._

_I pictured her face when I went to visit her a few days before my birthday. I showed her the photographs I took of the little two-bedroom duplex I rented just behind Zilker Park. She smiled, eyes wide with excitement as I told her all about our new life. We would walk down to the Barton Springs natural swimming pool in the summertime, and ride our bikes on the trails whenever she felt like it. The bruise on her cheek was gone; it was time to start over._

_The stinging pressure of the needle pulled me from my thoughts. I smiled to myself, enjoying the pain for once._

"_So let me guess, there's a pretty girl waiting to see this ink at home?" Emmett asked, trying again to engage me. He grinned widely, flashing his dimples and waggling his eyebrows. I couldn't help but chuckle at his perseverance._

"_Something like that. She's my sister, though. I'm picking her up today from foster care. She's coming to live with me." I didn't know why I was spilling my guts to a perfect stranger. He gave off a pretty good-natured vibe, though, so I kept talking._

"_Her name's Rosie… well… Rosalie. But she's always been Rosie to me."_

"_That's cool, man. Is that what the compass is for?"_

_I smiled and nodded, and then explained everything. The circle holding everything together was the aperture ring, from my camera. It focused on what was important, bridging my past and my future, letting in the light. At the center was the compass rose, for _my_ Rose. My north, south, east, and west. My light. My everything. Together we would find our way._

**.*.*.**

I know the precise moment in which he enters the darkroom. I hear his boots shuffling before I see him, but I feel him even before I hear him. I feel my breaths grow quick and shallow; my racing heart leaps suddenly to my throat. I feel each individual goose bump erupt over my arms as the all too familiar nervous energy washes over me.

I need him. I think I could even love him. I refuse to wait any longer.

"Jasper?"

I turn slowly and barely register his form several feet in front of my own. The safelights are dimmed such that only shadows of outlines of forms are discernible.

"Bella," he murmurs, ducking his head as always. I smile slowly, and immediately sense the nerves begin to dissipate, though the tension lingers.

I hear his footsteps before my eyes register movement. He takes five tentative steps forward, stopping only inches before me. In the dim red light, his normally brilliant blue eyes are washed of almost all their saturation and his skin is strangely pale. His eyes still burn with enough intensity to cause my own to falter, my gaze dropping. My own arms appear ghostly, almost translucent.

"I've been waiting for you," I whisper.

"I'm sorry."

I raise my eyes to meet his again, my teeth taking my bottom lip hostage as I consider his apparent hesitation. I want to know what he's apologizing for. I know he's broken, but it doesn't matter anymore. I want to be the one to fix him.

I register his downward glance at my lips, recognizing the look of longing that mirrors my own. It's all the encouragement I need.

I fist his shirt in my hands and pull him into me, closing the distance between us. His breathing mimics my own, short and quick against the top of my head. His hands move to rest timidly on my hips. I pull him down as I stand tall, meeting his lips firmly with my own. I sense him hesitate for a moment before he smiles against me, his hands moving to secure me against him. My fingers make their way into his thick wavy hair, tugging gently as I tilt my head to deepen our kiss. He pushes me slowly back against my enlarger station as I bite down gently on his lower lip.

His mouth leaves mine and moves to my neck, his lips and tongue incredibly warm against the tender skin. He trails his way along my jaw line, pausing just below my ear to whisper my name reverently.

I feel a surge of contentment and bliss as his words move over me, as palpable as any touch. My hands travel to his waist and then underneath his shirt; his hands mirror my motions. My fingers trace the outlines of roughness across his back, scars from a past I don't fully understand but hope I will someday. He gasps and flinches at my touch, trying desperately to pull away from me. I cling to him with all of my strength, willing him to keep calm and forcing him to face me.

"Jasper, please. I don't want you to hide from me anymore."

When his eyes meet mine, I see his insecurity in their depths. He nods minutely, pulling me into his arms. A calm settles over me as he murmurs my name again.

"I can feel what you're feeling, all the time," I breathe. "I know you feel it too."

"I do, Bella. I really do." He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't know what I'm doing here. It's been me and Rosie against the world for so long, I don't know how to let someone in," he whispers. I feel like I should be panicking at his words, instead I'm strangely composed. "I've wanted you, since the first time I saw you. I've never felt like this before. I've been a survivor, I've been a big brother and a protector… but I don't know how to love or trust people anymore. I'm in pieces, Bella, it happened a long time ago and you shouldn't have to –"

I press my fingers to his lips, silencing him. My other arm holds firmly around his waist as he tries to pull away again. I speak as assertively as I can, holding back the tears I know will follow if he refuses to listen.

"I know you've been hurt, but you can't run away from me. I see it in your face, every time you're in pain. I feel it, too, so much that it might as well be my own. I've never felt this way either, and I want to live it. I've been hiding behind the camera for too long, watching life happen. I've been too afraid to let people really see me. But I can't do that anymore, not with you. You deserve a life and so do I, and I'm not going to watch you walk away from me."

I pull myself to his lips again, and this time he doesn't hesitate. His kiss is deep, needy, and consuming; I'm surprised and overwhelmed that the contact of his skin makes me crave more. I know this is more than his touch, more than the feel of his body against mine. My stomach tightens as usual in response to him, but instead of nervous tension I feel excitement with an edge of something I can't identify. I feel my own need magnified by his, overcoming any hesitancy or doubt as we pull each other closer. Our motions slowly shift from apprehension to impatience and certainty. His arms wrap tightly around me and mine around him; I don't ever want to let go. Gradually we slow our pace and he pulls away, kissing my forehead sweetly. Our breathing slows, our hearts still pounding furiously as he holds me close, tracing soothing circles up and down my spine. I relax against him, his arms holding me steady.

"I've been in the shadows for so long. I don't know how to live in your light."

I rest my head on his chest, my hand over his heart. I feel it beneath my palm, still beating frenetically.

"I want to show you."

**.*.*.**

_I wanted her to show me._

_I wanted a life. I wanted it to be with her. _

_She laid her hand over my heart, and I hoped she was right. _

_I hoped I could learn._

_For the first time in a long time, I felt hope._

_Not hope for Rosie, that was never my problem. _

_Hope for myself. _

_I felt her heart beating wildly against my chest; I wanted it to beat for me._

_I smiled, and pulled her closer._

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**a/n: Thank you for reading! There are a couple links in my profile you can check out if you're interested in a little more information.**

**I have a million betas because apparently I need lots of hand-holding. Lots of love to my ficwife jackbauer aka staceygirl, hmonster4, profmom72, jennde, and brighterthansunshine for all their advice, support, and honesty. I really appreciate all of your help. Special thanks to my ficwife and hmonster4 for putting up with me so much, chatting me down off my ledges, and never telling me to shut up… and for all my BATgirls who are holding my hands as I post this.**

**All of the ladies above have wonderful stories you should definitely be reading so make sure you visit their profiles or check out my favorites list. jackbauer and profmom72 have also entered For the Love of Jasper so please check out both of their entries as well!**

**Thank you to ElleCC and LaViePastiche for giving all of us a way to show our love for Jasper. I'm sure he appreciates it. :-)**

**Thank you for voting! Underexposed made it to the final round of voting and won a First Time Writer Honorable Mention.**

**You can follow me on twitter. :) www(dot)twitter(dot)com/daisy3853  
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	2. Angles

**Just a quick note - this is a continuation of my one shot, originally written for the For the Love of Jasper contest. Chapter one is still the o/s, so if you read that already you haven't missed anything. :) **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I still own my camera.**

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"**To me, photography is an art of observation. It's about finding something interesting in an ordinary place... I've found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them." - Elliott Erwitt**

My toes pick up their all too familiar rhythm once more, tap-tap-tapping rapidly below the table as I wait nervously for him to walk in.

Him. Jasper.

It has been three days since our encounter in the darkroom. Three days since I told him how much I want him. Three days since I refused to let him leave and he took me in his arms.

Three days have never dragged by quite so slowly before.

After that day under the safelights, I finally understand what people are talking about when they say, "you'll just know." I've never felt so desperate to know someone. I want him to trust me with his history, his dreams, his secrets, his quirks, his body. I want him to know all of me in return. I remember clinging to him for what seemed like hours, gradually pulling away and letting things go back to normal. Making prints and stealing glances. I'm not really sure what sort of understanding we've come to. We want each other; that much I know.

The weekend has done nothing to diminish the pull I feel toward him, and I wonder how the time apart will have affected him. He seems as desperate as I am to explore this connection between us; at the same time, I know he's hesitant and maybe a little scared, and I hope a little distance hasn't magnified his doubts. I don't know what happened to him or why he's broken, but he is. I told him that day that I wanted to be the one to fix him, to bring him back from the shadows.

I still do.

My daydream is interrupted when I hear the door slowly open. I'm looking at my notebook, doodling quietly, but I know it's him. I smile to myself when I hear the shuffling of his boots as he makes his way over. He pauses just in front of me, and I look up to meet his gaze. He smiles shyly at me, and I forget my worries immediately. He might be scared and he might be hesitant, but I feel a sudden surge of confidence; I know we can work through this together.

"Miss Bella," he greets me, grinning teasingly but ducking his head as always. It's cute, so I don't correct him this time. I smile in return before returning to my doodles, shaking my head to myself at the little reminder of our first meeting. I suppose today is a sort of a new beginning in itself, and the thought causes my breathing to speed up just a little bit as he makes his way around the corner of the table and takes his seat. He's sitting so close to me, I swear I can feel his presence on my skin. I feel a shiver begin at the tips of my fingers and trail its way up my arm and to my scalp. My heartbeat quickens as it always does around him, and I hope my physical reaction to him never weakens. I sneak a glance and catch him looking at me. We both laugh nervously. I blush, and we turn away.

After a few tense moments, I decide to break the silence. Apparently he has the same plan.

"So I-"

"How was-"

We cut each other off, and I laugh uncomfortably. How is it possible to be on edge with someone you're so comfortable with? He waves me on, chuckling as he does so. My eyes don't miss the movements of his fingers as they betray his nervousness against our table. I feel a little calmer, reminded again that I'm not alone in this. I take a deep breath and plunge forward.

"I was just wondering… how was your weekend?"

"It was good, but pretty slow. I worked most of the time and hung out with my little sister a bit. How about yours?"

"Oh, you know… really exciting stuff like laundry and homework. I worked on a couple shooting assignments, though. I think I have some ideas about the negative space assignment coming up on our schedule."

And with that small opening, his posture relaxes, my vitals thankfully return to normal, and we remember the easy connection which our shared passion has provided us with. After a few minutes, we're interrupted by Professor Berty who begins the introduction into our new assignment.

"So basically, this is an ongoing project for the rest of the semester, in addition to your regular weekly assignments. I want you to start changing the way you look at the world around you. You've spent the last three years in this program learning the more formal side of photography: technical skills, lighting concepts, posing. I want to push you to apply your ideas to what you see in your everyday life. Sometimes we find beauty and impact in the most unlikely of places. I want you to always be ready and waiting for a moment which you might have otherwise been unprepared for. Every Monday, I want you to come into this class with a contact sheet of 8-12 images from whatever happened in your life the previous week. I'm going to give you a little guidance for this first week, but after that I want you to take the lead. So set yourself an assignment, find a goal, or just see where your camera takes you. I just want to see the results. Show me something I haven't seen before out of something I've probably seen a million times."

His lecture is punctuated by a slideshow of his own portfolio which follows the same prompt. As I watch the examples appearing and disappearing on the wall in front of me, I smile to myself; this is the kind of assignment I have been waiting for. I want someone to push me creatively, test my limits. I glance surreptitiously around the room and find similar expressions of excitement on my classmates' faces. My eyes meet the ice-blue ones beside me, and I see my own spark of creative passion reflected within. Berty tells us to find something "definitely Austin" for this week, and with that we're off.

Jasper asks me if I want to head down to South Congress together to look for something that defines Austin, and I don't hesitate to agree.

We decide to park at the lake and head south, giving us time to explore and still return to our cars before sunset. It's bat season, so we want to stake a good spot by the Congress Street bridge to watch the bats take flight at dusk. During the summer and fall there are more bats than humans living in Austin, and their nightly emergence is simultaneously eerie and thrilling.

We walk side-by-side at first, quietly surveying our surroundings. The light is perfect; the long, diffuse shadows and warm glow of the late afternoon sun lend beauty and impact to almost everything I see. My leisurely pace gradually creates a small void between Jasper and me, and I use the distance to watch him and the way he photographs. He seems to judge a scene quickly, following instinct, while I take a little longer and look a little more closely. Once he finds something he likes, though, he takes his time to see it from every angle.

He pauses just before the Continental Club, my favorite live music venue, and watches an elderly man leaning against the crimson front door. His weathered fingers are strumming an equally weathered six string. One knee is bent, his foot propped against the wall to steady himself. His eyes are hidden beneath the brim of a worn ten-gallon hat, and I don't think he can see us yet. I vaguely register the steady click of Jasper's shutter as he moves slowly around the man, judging angles and light. The man lifts his head to meet Jasper's gaze, but his song doesn't falter. Jasper nods at him before continuing his quiet study. He lowers his camera when the man lowers his instrument, tipping his hat to both of us. Jasper turns and walks toward me, his eyes alive in excitement. I know that look; I can't physically see it on my own face, but I recognize the adrenaline rush and sense of accomplishment when you come across the perfect scene for the perfect shot. It's the same feeling I got that first day with my dad and my camera, and I hope it's the same every time I find something worth capturing.

"Sorry about that, Bella. I got a little caught up."

"No worries, I was enjoying watching both of you. That was amazing. I'm sure you got some really great shots."

"Yeah, I hope so. We'll see in the darkroom, huh?" He shrugs dismissively, and I know what he means. It almost feels like you're jinxing things if you get too excited before the film is processed. I guess it's another argument in favor of digital; though at the same time, the rush you feel when you unwind a reel of perfectly exposed film can't be matched by downloading files from a memory card.

"Bella?"

"Oh, sorry, I zoned out. What was that?"

"It's getting late, don't you think we should start heading back to the lake? We still need to scope out a good spot."

"Yeah, definitely. Do you mind if we get a snow cone on the way back? I haven't had one in ages, and it's so hot. It sounds so good right now."

I see a flash of something pass through his eyes, but it's gone before I can identify it. I open my mouth to retract my request, but he smiles warmly and gestures for me to continue down the street with him. He's silent as we make our way to the snow cone stand, which is housed in a classic-looking airstream trailer.

"So… are you going to get one, too?" I question, because he looks inexplicably hesitant about something so simple.

"Umm, yeah I guess so. What are you having?"

"Cherry," I answer, almost before the words are fully out of his mouth. "I always get cherry. There's this place in Dallas my dad always took me to when I was little. It's been there since the sixties or something crazy like that. Anyway, the first flavor I ever tried was cherry, and I loved how it made my lips turn bright red. My dad said I looked so grown up, like I was playing dress up with my mom's makeup or something."

I trail off then, because once again I've managed to bring up the uncomfortable subject of my half-set of parents, and by extension, his. Sure enough, I watch the tension move over his expression, settling in his shoulders.

"I don't like cherry."

I give him a weak smile before I turn to order my snow cone. Jasper jumps in before I can pull out my money, choosing lime and waving off my attempt to pay him back for my own. I give up and instead enjoy my paper cup full of ice cold sweetness, smiling as the familiar flavor dissolves on my tongue. I notice Jasper watching me carefully as we continue toward the lake. His lingering gaze on my lips thrills me, and I wonder if he can sense the effect he has on me.

"I used to bring Rosie here a lot, in the summertime. To get out of the house." His sudden words startle me, and I realize I'm staring at his lips which are now stained green with lime syrup. I smile and he continues. "She always got cherry too; it's her favorite."

"She's lucky to have such a good brother; it sounds like you do a lot for her."

"I've always tried to. It was mostly just the two of us growing up. When my dad..." He trails off quietly, his brows furrowed tightly and pain etched in every line of his face. I reach out and grab his hand, squeezing it gently. My touch seems to reassure him, his eyes find mine, and I see… embarrassment?

"It's okay, Jasper. You don't have to tell me anything you aren't ready to."

"No, it's not that." His grip on my hand tightens, and he takes a deep breath before continuing.

"When my dad died, my mom was devastated. She pretty much checked out. So when I say it was mostly me and Rosie, I mean I've pretty much been taking care of her since I was eight. My mom isn't really a part of our lives anymore."

He turns hesitantly to gauge my reaction, and I know he won't find pity here. The thought of a mother basically abandoning her children after something like that, especially after what Charlie has been to me, makes me ill with outrage.

"Hey, it's okay Bella. We're okay now."

His eyes are sincere and worried. I smile before taking another bite of my snow cone, which is beginning to melt in the heat of the early evening. His gaze moves back to my lips, lingering.

"Bella. I have to -"

But he never finishes his sentence. Instead he leans forward, and his lips are on mine, softly, gently. It only lasts a moment but it's enough to set my heart racing. He pulls away slowly, a small smile on his face. I lick my bottom lip which now tastes of limes, and grin shyly in return.

"Cherry might not be so bad," he offers. We both laugh lightly and continue down to the water, hand-in-hand.

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_September, 2000 (Jasper is 13, Rosie is 7)_

_I was out of my seat the moment the bell rang. I was at my locker before most people made it out of their seats. By the time I made it to the main hallway, students and teachers were everywhere. I just wanted to get out, and fast. Someone was waiting for me._

_I shoved my way through the crowds, not really caring about who I was upsetting. This happened every day, and if they didn't know by now to get out of my way, that was their problem, not mine._

_I finally made it to the bike racks, quickly unlocking mine and taking off down the street. _

_I knew I wasn't late or anything. Technically she could be there until five, but I never liked to leave her there that long, especially on Fridays. I pulled up to her elementary school and locked up my bike next to her little pink one out in front. I had convinced my mom to buy it for Rosie for her seventh birthday last April, and I had taught her how to ride it over the summer. She was getting pretty good at it now, so when it wasn't raining outside we rode our bikes to school instead of the bus. _

_I jogged up the front steps and through the mostly empty hallways, making my way to the library. When I walked in, I saw her immediately. She was sitting at a little table with the other after-school kids, reading a book. I made my way over quietly and sat down across from her without her noticing. She was really concentrating, and her smile told me it must be a good book._

"_Hey sweetie," I whispered._

_She lifted her head and her eyes opened wide when she saw me, a big smile lighting up her pretty face._

"_Jasper!" she said, a little too loudly. The librarian shushed her but laughed as she did it. She definitely had a soft spot for us._

"_Shhh… I've got a surprise for you today, Rosie. Let's pick out a couple books to take home for the weekend and then we can go, okay?"_

_She nodded her head, handing me the one she was reading and a couple others she had already stacked next to her. I laughed. She loved Fridays because we always took a few new books home._

_I put them all in my bag and took her hand, leading her over to her teacher to sign out._

"_Hey Mrs. Cope, Rosie and I are gonna take off now."_

"_Sounds good, Jasper. Rosie, don't forget we have a spelling test on Monday, make sure you study, okay?" _

"_I won't forget, Mrs. Cope. Jasper will help me."_

_Mrs. Cope smiled and said, "Of course he will, sweetheart. Jasper, the list is in her yellow folder. And don't forget to have your mom sign her progress report in the red folder. You two have a good weekend." She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she didn't. She never did._

_Rosie chattered the whole way out to our bikes, and I unlocked hers for her and helped her climb on before jumping on my own. She was still talking about how she got to hold a frog in science class when we started pedaling down the street._

"_And, Jasper, I was so scared because I thought he would bite me or I'd drop him or something. But Mrs. Cope showed me how to hold him the right way, and he was so slimy. Can we get a frog, Jasper?"_

"_I don't know, sweetie, maybe. I'll talk to Mom about it."_

_I knew she'd probably say no, but I'd ask her anyway. I always did. _

"_Jasper, you didn't tell me what my surprise is yet. Is it a good one?"_

"_I think so. It's so hot today, I thought we'd ride our bikes down to get a snow cone before we went home, sound good?"_

"_Yes! I want a cherry one. Cherry's my favorite."_

"_I know, it's mine too."_

_She was always so excited to share her day with me, and I wanted her to have someone who was excited to hear about it. I kinda doubted that Mom would be in the mood to hear about how her team won at dodge ball, or how her buddy Tanya punched a boy for trying to kiss her under the slide at recess. So I listened to her talk rapidly about the rest of her school day while I concentrated on the road. There weren't sidewalks in our neighborhood, so we had to ride in the street. I made Rosie stay next to the curb and I rode next to her, on the outside, just in case there was a car or something. _

_We parked our bikes next to the old airstream trailer on South Congress. My dad used to bring me here and it was nice to remember what things used to be like sometimes. He always tried to get me to try something other than cherry, but it was always my favorite. I knew Rosie couldn't remember stuff like that, so I tried to tell her the kinds of things he did with us. _

_I paid for two cherry snow cones and handed one to Rosie. You would have thought I was handing her a million dollars from the look on her face. I really liked it when she looked at something like that; it made me feel like I was doing something right._

_We walked around, looking at all the people who were out and about, and slowly ate our snow cones. It was so hot, and they were so sweet and cold. It was the perfect way to start our weekend. I almost forgot what we'd be going home to, until I looked at Rosie. Her lips were stained blood red, a little trickle of syrup dribbling down from the corner of her mouth. I had a sudden flash of my own bloody lip in the mirror, and the back of the hand that put it there. My mother's hand. _

_I stopped walking, and Rosie turned around to see what I was doing. I was sure the panic was written all over my face, because she looked worried. I felt nauseous and angry that my mom could ruin something as simple and happy as snow cones. She had replaced one of my happiest memories of my dad with something I was scared and ashamed of. I grabbed Rosie's snow cone and threw it and mine in the nearest trash can. When I turned back to face her, she looked really scared. I hated it when she looked scared._

"_Jasper, what happened? I wasn't finished yet."_

"_I know, sorry sweetie. There was a bee, and I was worried he'd come after us with all that sugar. Here, let me wipe your face off."_

_She still looked scared, but she came closer so I could clean the syrup off her mouth with the edge of my shirt. I relaxed a little when the mess was gone, and I smiled to make her feel better._

"_There, all better. No bees for Rosie."_

_She smiled up at me, and I thought she believed me. She looked relieved, at least._

"_Thanks, Jasper. I really hate bees. Can we go home now? I want to show Mommy my math test. I got a 92!"_

"_Sure thing. She might be sleeping though, so let's be quiet when we go in just in case."_

_Her little face scrunched up in worry, and I felt bad for putting it there. I had pretty much ruined the fun afternoon we'd been having._

"_Oh, yeah. Well I don't want to wake her up. I'll be quiet, I promise."_

"_And you know what? Even if she is asleep, I bet Garrett would love to see your test," I said, and I knew it was true. Rosie had adored him since the day he moved in next door, four years ago. He wasn't really a parent, but he was as close as it got most days. She perked up a little at the suggestion, and I knew that he wouldn't let her down._

"_That's my girl. Come on, why don't we walk our bikes home? I'm tired of pedaling."_

_We were quiet for a few minutes, and Rosie still looked a little worried. I hoped Mom would be up and having a good day when we got there so Rosie could show her the math test. She should be able to share stuff like that with a mom who'd be proud of her; she shouldn't have to worry about whether her mom would be sleeping it off at 4:30 in the afternoon. _

"_Jasper?" Her voice brought me out of my angry thoughts, and I tried to plaster on a happy face when I turned to answer her._

"_What's up?"_

"_Why does Mommy sleep so much?"_

_Oh man. _

"_Well, Mommy's tired, sweetie. She gets sad sometimes and being sad makes her tired."_

"_She's sad because she still misses Daddy. Is that why she's mad, too? Because we made Daddy go away?"_

"_She's not mad at you, and don't ever say that. You did not make Daddy go away. It's not your fault."_

"_Then why does she yell at us so much?"_

"_I think sometimes Mommy gets so sad that she doesn't know what else to do but yell. She yells at us because we love her, and she knows we'll still love her even if she yells at us. Sometimes you can only show how sad or angry you are to the people who really love you."_

_I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, and her face was still tied up in knots. I didn't know what else to say, or how to make this better. The counselors at school had tried to talk to me right after my dad died, but Rosie was too little at the time. I wanted her to understand that it wasn't her fault. How do you explain alcohol to your baby sister? _

"_I don't like it when she yells at you, Jasper," she whispered._

_I turned to look at her, and she was scared again. I knew she meant more than 'yell,' and that broke my heart. No matter how hard I tried to keep her out of the way, it would never be enough. I could put a thousand locks on her closet door to help her hide, but she could still hear what was going on. She could still see the marks on my face and my body. I knew she was figuring out exactly how they got there._

"_I know. I don't like it either."_

"_I love you, Jasper. I'm glad you're my brother."_

_I smiled at her. This time I didn't even have to try to make it look like a real one, because hearing her say that made all of the bad days worth it. _

"_I love you too, sweetie. Let's go home."_

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**Thank you for reading! **

**A HUGE thank you plus hugs and kisses to my two lovely betas: jackbauer aka staceygirl and justaskalice. They both keep me in line, make me look smarter, don't laugh at me for being so insecure, and are incredibly supportive. I love them both *equally* and if you know them, you know why that's important. Hehe. **

**Also love and puffy hearts to Ahelm for pre-reading and giving me a vote of confidence. Oh, and for pushing me to post this week. That's all her. :)**

**I'll be updating once a week… There are a couple links on my profile page if you're interested.**


	3. Symmetry

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I still own my camera.**

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"**A photograph never grows old. You and I change, people change all through the months and years, but a photograph always remains the same. How nice to look at a photograph of mother or father taken many years ago. You see them as you remember them. But as people live on, they change completely. That is why I think a photograph can be kind." - Albert Einstein**

I'm the first one in the darkroom this evening. I always am. I take my time lowering the lights and setting up my station. I know he'll be here soon, and tonight I'm jittery in anticipation instead of nervousness. I know now that he's always almost-late to our darkroom nights because he insists on waiting to take his sister to her friend's house. She goes every Friday, but he takes her to an early dinner first. It's important to him that they have that time together.

I know this, now, because of our day on South Congress. He hasn't told me everything, not nearly everything. But he has told me enough to give me hope that in time, he'll trust me with all of it. I close my eyes and remember the way he grasped my hand a little tighter before he could speak. I remember the tartness of limes on my lips after he kissed me so sweetly. I feel a shiver traveling up the column of my spine, except it's more than just a shiver. It's him. I feel warm breath move across the side of my neck, just below my ear, before I hear him.

"Bella," he whispers. I smile.

"You shouldn't sneak up on a girl like that. I might have had to take you out."

He chuckles lightly, moving to lean against the enlarger station in front of me, his eyes on mine.

"You think you could take me? I'm not so sure."

"Don't kid yourself, cowboy. My dad taught me how to take care of myself. I'm pretty confident I could have you flat on your back in less than 30 seconds if I wanted to."

I blush at my own words, hoping he can't make it out in the darkness. He smiles unabashedly, and I know I haven't gotten away with it.

"Well, maybe someday. For now I'll take your word for it."

He pushes away from my station, going back to his own at my side and preparing his negatives. We work silently for a time. The only sounds in the room are the gentle running of water at the chemistry stations and our quiet movements around our enlargers.

I thread a negative into the carrier, holding it up to the safelight to ensure its proper placement before sliding the carrier into the enlarger. I ready the paper, set my timer, and let the light do its work.

Jasper and I reach the developing tray at the same time.

"Ladies first," he gestures, nodding his head and waving me on.

I slip my blank sheet of paper into the chemistry, lifting the edge of the tray to submerge it fully. Jasper moves closer to my side and slides his paper in with mine. My eyes follow both of our prints as the images from our trip to South Congress slowly appear before me. Jasper uses the tongs to move both through the next two trays and into the water bath.

He walks back to his station, but before I turn to begin another, I linger to take in the photographs before me. Jasper's weathered street musician is simple in his stoicism, and I smile as I think about how carefully Jasper studied him. My image of the bats is strange and eerie and wonderful. I had set my camera up on a tripod, using a very slow shutter speed in the fading light of the evening. The result is a swarm of bats, wings blurred in frantic motion as they hover over the lake.

As I turn to walk back to my station, my phone rings in my pocket. I hear the familiar sounds of fiddles and steel guitars, and I know it's Charlie calling.

"I'll be right back, it's my dad."

"I'll be here."

I walk through the first bend in the convoluted black hallway, where I know the light of my phone won't cause damage.

"Daddy?"

"_Hey there, Bella. I'm not interrupting you, am I?" _

"Of course not. I always have time for my old man."

"_Now that's a nice thing to call your father. Old man. I wonder what my dad would have done if I'd called him that."_

"Yes, yes, I know," I laugh at the familiarity of his most common guilty tactic. "He would have made you walk ten miles to school in the nonexistent Texas snow, and I'm so, so very spoiled. I think we've covered this."

"_Sounds about right to me. You're pretty bright, you know. Wonder where you got that."_

"From my dad, of course."

"_Well, if you say so, I'll take it."_ I hear his quiet guffaw and feel my chest tighten slightly.

"I miss you, Daddy."

"_You too, honey. I was just calling about this weekend." _

He pauses, inhaling slowly, and I'm fairly certain I know what comes next.

"_They need me to cover an extra shift at the station on Saturday. Deputy Black's wife just went into labor, so… it looks like I won't be able to get away for your birthday after all. I'm so sorry, Bella."_

"Don't be silly. Tell Billy I said congratulations. I'll be fine, I promise. It's not like it's my first birthday alone, you know. You forget, I'm a big girl now."

"_I know you are, I just miss you is all. I was looking forward to driving down there this weekend."_

"Don't worry about it. Ang will be excited to have me all to herself. I bet it won't take much to talk her into a margarita night."

"_Well that sounds like more fun than a night on the town with your old man anyway. Hang on a second, honey."_

He muffles the phone with his hand, and I hear his hushed instructions to one of the other officers.

"_Listen, Bella, I have to go deal with a few things. I'll call you on Sunday though, bright and early?"_

"Sure thing, Daddy," I laughed. "Not too early, though, or you'll be ignored."

"_You wound me. You wouldn't ignore your old man."_

"Before eight o'clock, I'd ignore the Pope. Be careful at work. I love you."

"_Always am, honey. Love you too."_

I lean against the wall, holding the phone against my chest. I haven't seen my dad since July and had really been looking forward to spending my birthday with him. Ang has made plans to go to the lake house with Ben for the weekend, so margarita night is definitely out. I sigh, and turn to walk slowly back into the darkroom.

"Everything alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It was my dad. He was supposed to come down this weekend but now he has to work."

"Yeah, I heard."

My head shoots up, eyes meeting his, and I imagine there might be a blush to go along with the sheepish look on his face.

"Why, Mr. Whitlock, were you… eavesdropping?"

He shrugs, grinning at the sarcasm in my tone.

"Well, Miss Bella, if you plan on having secret conversations you may either want to lower your voice or move more than eight feet away from your companion."

"Fair enough, I suppose you're forgiven."

"Well, that's a relief. Does that mean you'll let me take you out for your birthday?"

His eyes are trying very hard to focus on the box of paper in front of him, while his fingers work very carefully to peel off the label stuck to the cardboard. I feel a rush of butterflies and warmth at his nervousness.

"That depends," I qualify.

"On?"

"On where exactly you plan on taking me, Mr. Whitlock."

"Can't a gentleman have a few secrets?"

He turns back to face me.

"The lady has a few rules. We're not going to the lake, or anywhere else where I might injure myself. I still haven't forgiven myself for my eighteenth birthday disaster. And no singing 'Happy Birthday,' period."

"If you expect me to agree I'm going to need to hear the stories behind your rules. Care to share?"

"Only if you promise not to hold it against me. My Daddy calls me Gracie sometimes, and with good reason."

"I solemnly swear."

I appraise his serious expression before cracking a smile and delving into the story.

"It was my first semester here in Austin, and Angela was my first friend. We were roommates in the dorms, and she convinced me to go out to Lake Travis with her for the weekend. Her boyfriend's parents have a house out there. Anyway, being the graceful young lady I am, I somehow managed to slip on a moss-covered rock. I fell backwards and cut my shoulder open on a sharp edge."

I turn away from him, gathering my long dark hair to twist over my right shoulder. I slide the strap and sleeve of my tank top off my left shoulder, exposing the long pale scar just at the top of my shoulder blade.

"Twenty-eight stitches, a personal best. I spent the rest of the weekend lying on my stomach and moping."

I feel the rough tip of his finger trace slowly down the raised skin, just barely making contact. My breathing quickens and I hear his do the same behind me.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

"Excuse me?"

"Your scar. It's different. So soft and pale, not rough like mine."

I release my hair and fix my shirt, turning to face him.

"The one on your hand?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again, nodding instead.

"I don't mind it so much, Jasper."

He smiles in the smallest way, pausing briefly before speaking again, quietly.

"And what about the singing?"

"I was so shy when I was little, I would cry when people sang 'Happy Birthday' to me. Too much attention. My dad still gives me hell about it, even though I probably haven't done it since I was seven or eight. I just try to avoid the situation whenever possible," I explain, my voice low to match his.

"Well I think I can handle that," he says, his eyes on mine. "I have a pretty good scar on my knee from my seventh birthday, so no teasing there."

He looks like he's a little lost, or waiting for something. Waiting for what, I'm not sure. I reach out and take his hand like I did before, and it seems to bring him back to the present.

"So how about it?" he asks. "I have to work all day Saturday and Sunday, but maybe we could go Saturday night?"

"That might be nice."

"Might. Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

His answering smile is exuberant, and I'm fairly certain mine matches it.

"Pick you up at nine?"

"Perfect."

"Perfect."

He holds my gaze for several moments before I turn away shyly. I place a fresh sheet of paper under my enlarger, set the timer, and watch the light as it floods across the paper.

**–*–*–**

_**July 19, 1994 (Jasper is 7, Rosie is 15 months)**_

"_You got me a WHAT?"_

"_A bike."_

"_A BIKE?"_

"_Yes, son, a BIKE!" _

_My dad waved his arms around like I was. He was silly like that sometimes and it always made me laugh._

"_Where is it? Can I ride it? What color is it? Do I have to wear a helmet? How am I gonna -"_

"_Whoa there, cowboy. Hold your horses. One question at a time or you'll send your poor old man to an early grave."_

_I took a really big breath and tried to calm down. _

"_What color is it?"_

"_Red." My favorite._

"_Do I have to wear a helmet?"_

"_Of course you do__,__ sweetheart," said Mom. "I don't want my baby to get hurt. Daddy's going to teach you how to ride your bicycle very carefully, isn't he?" _

_She looked at Dad like she was mad at him, and he just shrugged at her. I knew she was worried about me riding a real bike. She was always really worried that I was going to get hurt doing stuff that all the boys did. That was why all my friends already had their bikes and I didn't. I didn't understand what she was so afraid of. _

_She brought me a big box with red bikes on the wrapping paper and I tore it off really fast. It was a brand new helmet._

"_Wow, Superman!"_

"_I thought you might like that. So you can ride faster than a speeding bullet," said Dad. Then he winked at me._

"_More powerful than a locomotive?"_

"_Able to leap tall buildings in a single-" Dad started to say, but Mom interrupted him. I don't know why she got to interrupt people. She told me it was very rude and that I should mind my manners. I guessed it wasn't rude for grownups._

"_Alright, Jack." she said, giving my dad the stink eye. "You boys are going to wake Rosalie up from her nap. Don't you think the boy wants to see his bicycle?"_

_Dad laughed and stood up, patting me on the shoulder. He picked his camera up from the table next to the front door, and I followed him out into the front yard. _

_Then I saw it. It was red and shiny__,__ and it was all mine. I had been asking for a bike ever since my best friend Peter got one for his birthday. That was way back last March, and I was pretty sure Mom was getting sick of me talking about it all the time. I knew she would. _

_I had a little old bike with training wheels but that was from when I was a baby or something, because it was way too little. It was embarrassing, and nobody used training wheels when they were seven. Now Peter and I could go ride bikes together whenever we wanted and I wouldn't have to run behind him anymore. Plus, his bike was only yellow which was really lame. He said it was his favorite color, but I was pretty sure he was lying. No one likes yellow that much. _

"_Well, are you going to do anything besides stare at it? Maybe I should take it back to the store."_

"_NO!" I yelled, and he laughed again. Mom came out onto the porch then. She just stood there, watching, looking scared. She had her arms crossed really tight around her chest and it looked like she was hugging herself._

_I went over to my bike and climbed on. The handlebars were really hot because it was July and the sun made everything hot here. I didn't care though, because I had a new bike. I heard clicking noises and I turned around to see what it was. My dad was taking pictures of me. He was always taking pictures. I smiled really big for him._

"_Jasper, baby, that's a silly smile. Let's see a real one."_

_I smiled again and laughed a little. I hated when she said that, but it always made me laugh. How was I supposed to know what a real smile was? I just smile._

_I turned back around and put a foot on the pedal. I didn't go anywhere though, because__ once__ I thought about it, I realized that I didn't know how to ride without the training wheels. Dad must have figured out what I was thinking because he came up and grabbed onto my handlebars. His arms were around me almost like a hug, and I knew he wouldn't let me fall. He pushed me through the grass in our front yard and we stopped in the street. _

_Mom came over and put my Superman helmet on. She looked really scared now and was holding her hands together in front of her stomach like she was about to be sick or something. Dad took another picture with my helmet on and then he took one of Mom, too. She laughed and hit him on the shoulder. He grabbed her hand, pulled her over to him, and kissed her. _

_I turned and looked at the street. I didn't think it was gross or anything, I just didn't want to watch. I liked it when he kissed her because it always made her so happy, and I really liked seeing my mom and dad so happy. I heard them both laughing again, and then Dad came back and put his hands on my handlebars like before._

"_You listening to your old man?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Alright. We're gonna run down the street until we get going really fast. I'm going to hold onto you, and I want you to pedal as fast as you can, okay?"_

"_Yes, sir." _

"_When you say you're ready, I'll let go. You keep on pedaling and hold your handlebars so they're going straight. If you need to stop, pedal backwards. Understand?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_You ready, Superman?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

_I took a really big breath and started pedaling. I heard Mom yelling at me to be careful, but I __knew I __didn't need to be careful. I was going to fly._

_We started going really fast. Really, really fast._

"_Ready?"_

"_Not yet."_

_We went a little farther. _

"_Ready?"_

"_Not yet!'_

"_Jasper, I've gotta let go sometime. Don't be afraid, you'll be just fine."_

_I thought about what he was saying. Afraid? He was right, I was being a chicken. Jasper Whitlock was no chicken._

"_READY!"_

_He let go. I wobbled crazily, and I thought I was going to fall. But I held on tight and tried to point my handlebars straight ahead like he said. _

"_You're doing it, Jasper! Look at you go!"_

_I was doing it. I was pretty sure this was faster than a speeding bullet, because the wind was really starting to hurt my eyes. _

"_Okay, Jasper, turn around now! You're getting close to the end of the block."_

_Turn around? He didn't show me how to turn around… he said go straight. I was going straight. Turn around? Oh man._

_I pulled on my handlebars and pointed them a little to the left. Or maybe it was the right. Yeah, backwards "L," it was the right. I was turning. I wasn't turning enough. I was heading straight for the curb. I was going to hit the curb._

_I was flying._

_I thought I must have flown all the way across the yard, because I could've sworn I was in the air for like 10 minutes or something. My knee hurt really bad. I heard my mom scream._

"_Jasper… Jasper? You okay, Superman?" Dad was there, and he turned me over onto my back._

_I looked up at him and he looked really worried. _

"_I flew."_

_He looked really relieved after that, and __he __yelled to my mom that I was just fine. I tried to stand up, but my knee hurt a lot. I really wanted to cry but I didn't._

"_Take it easy, I've gotcha."_

_He picked me up to carry me inside, and I noticed that he was really strong. Maybe even as strong as Superman. He hadn't carried me in a long time since I was so big now, but it was just like he was carrying Rosie or something. _

"_Can I try again?"_

"_Maybe a little later. Looks like your fancy flying earned you a pretty big scrape on your knee. We better take care of it.__"_

"_Then can I try again?"_

"_We'll see how you feel."_

"_I thought you said cowboys are supposed to get right back on the horse."_

_Dad laughed and shook his head at me. I thought I heard him mumble something about being a smarty pants. _

_He carried me inside and sat me down on the kitchen counter. Mom brought him the first aid box with all the band-aids and stuff in it. He pulled out the hydrogen peroxide, and I almost started crying again, because that stuff really hurt._

"_Hey__,__ it's okay, we just need to clean it and then you'll be good to go. I know it stings, but you don't want an infection, do you?"_

_I shook my head, and Mom held my hand. I let her, even though she was treating me like a baby. Sometimes you just need your mom. _

_He cleaned the cuts on my knee really carefully, and it didn't sting as much as I thought it would. He wiped the rest off and put on some Neosporin and two big band-aids. At least I'd have a really cool scar after all this. Peter would be so jealous._

"_There we go. You ready to go back out there?"_

"_Yes, but… first, will you show me how to turn the right way? I think I've had enough flying for one day."_

_Everyone laughed. He took me outside, and we practiced a lot. After awhile I got really good at it, even turning. Rosie came out after her nap to watch me, and I bet she was pretty proud of her big brother. I rode that bike all afternoon long, in big circles up and down our street._

_Dad told me to wait for a minute while he went in the garage to get something. When he came back out, he was pushing a really big blue bike._

"_You got one, too?"_

"_Sure did. I figured you might want to ride with your old man every once in awhile."_

"_Dad, you're not old."_

"_Well, if you say so. Now how about we ride over and get a snow cone while Mom makes dinner?"_

"_That sounds like fun to me." _

_I was really excited. I guessed dessert before dinner was okay as long as it was your birthday._

"_Perfect. Stay close, Superman."_

_It was the best birthday ever._

_

* * *

_

**a/n: Thank you for reading!**

**Love to my amazing betas justaskalice and jackbauer aka staceygirl, and also to TheHeartOfLifeIsGood and Ahizelm for pre-reading. They all have amazing stories in my favorites which you should check out immediately. Margarita night is for Ahizelm because she's as awesome in real life as she is in fic world. Check out her AU called Aurora Borealis. :)**

**As always, check out the links in my profile if you're interested. See you next week.  
**


	4. Focus

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I still own my camera.**

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"**When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence." - Ansel Adams**

My fingers brush over the row of fabrics hanging in my closet. Tonight Jasper is taking me out for my birthday. Where, I have no idea. He said somewhere laid back, and my only instructions were to wear comfortable shoes and to be ready at nine. I'm not really the primping type anyway, so casual I will be. I pull out my favorite pair of jeans and a crimson top. I know the color looks nice against my skin, and while I don't like to primp, I do like to look good.

It's twenty to nine now, and I feel the anticipation building in my stomach. As disappointed as I am that my dad couldn't have the weekend off, I'm excited about a night out with Jasper. I'm just throwing on some lip gloss and mascara when I hear my phone ring.

"Daddy?"

"_Hey honey, happy birthday."_

"You realize you're just a few hours early. Or did you confuse me with one of your other offspring?"

"_Ha ha," _he deadpans._ "You know you're my one and only. And after what you put me through, I'd have been a fool."_

"Whatever," I laugh, because we both know that's a lie. "So why are you calling tonight? I wasn't expecting you until in the morning."

"_Well, things are pretty quiet around the station tonight. Deputy Black just sent out the pictures of their new little one, and they made me miss my little girl."_

I smile, because I like that he still thinks of me as his little girl. I still call him Daddy, and I'm not ashamed. He always tries to make my birthday extra special, and I always pretend I can't tell how much pain this day is tinged with for him. He always told me he lost his love, but gained another. I always hoped I was worth it. He says I'm worth everything, and that's good enough for me.

"_Plus, I figured you girls would probably be sleeping in after a margarita night. Thought I'd stay out of your hair."_

"Oh," I begin. I don't want to lie to him, but I'm not sure how to bring up Jasper. "Actually, Ang ended up going to the lake with Ben for the weekend."

"_You aren't all alone, are you? Why didn't you come up for the weekend?"_

"No, I won't be alone. I'm going out."

I pause and hear silence on the other end.

"I sort of have a date, I think."

"_A date, huh? That sounds like fun. Who's the boy? Do I know him?"_

"No, he's one of my classmates. His name is Jasper."

"_And… are you gonna tell me about this 'Jasper' or will I have to run a background check?"_

I hear him typing gibberish very loudly on his keyboard, and I laugh in spite of myself.

"Very funny, Dad. Not necessary, but I'll keep your enthusiasm in mind. He's a perfect gentleman. He called me "Miss Bella" the first time we met."

"_Oh, poor kid. I hope you weren't too hard on him."_

"Don't be silly, I'm only hard on you. Do you want to hear this or not?"

"_I'm sorry, go on."_

"Anyway, his name is Jasper, and he's in one of my classes and my darkroom period. He's my age, or at least he will be after midnight. His dad died when he was little, and his relationship with his mom is… complicated. His little sister lives with him now. He's…"

I pause, because I really don't know much more than that. I don't know how to explain the intensity of what I feel for Jasper, the physical pull, the connection to him. I can't explain it to myself or Jasper, let alone my father. I wonder if this is how he felt about my mom, and I feel an ache in my chest because seeing my parents happy together is one more thing I've missed out on.

"_He sounds like a nice boy, Bella."_

"He is, a very nice boy. I don't know how to explain it. He's just… different. I really like him."

Again all I hear on the line is silence, mixed with my dad's slow breathing. I'm about to speak when he does, quietly.

"_I'm happy for you, honey. He sounds alright." _

I imagine what I might see in his eyes, in the worn lines of his face, if he were standing in front of me instead of on a phone 200 miles away. I hear the pain in his voice, the longing. The ache he feels for her which never goes away. It hurts me to see it, but at the same time it's nice to know that that kind of love exists. The kind that can't be stopped by death or distance, only delayed.

"He's much more than 'alright,' Daddy," I say, and it's the best way I can explain at this point. "I better go though, he should be here in a couple minutes."

"_Alright honey, have a good time. Be careful."_

"Always am, you know that."

"_You still have that pepper spray I gave you for Christmas last year?"_ He asks, a smile in his voice.

"Ha, ha. I'm hanging up now, Charlie."

"_Alright, alright. I love you, Bella. Happy birthday."_

"Thanks, Daddy. I love you, too."

I hang up, smiling to myself and missing my dad. I don't have long to wait though, because I hear a knock at my door. I grab my clutch and answer it.

I'm met by blue eyes, bright with excitement, and a smile which causes my stomach to flutter. He asks me if I'm ready to go, and I tell him I am. He looks me up and down brazenly, his eyes lingering on my feet.

"When I said 'comfortable shoes,' I didn't really intend for you to go barefoot."

"Oops," I laugh, blushing. "I got a little distracted. Just give me a minute. You can come in, make yourself comfortable."

Jasper nods and walks inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He looks curious yet uncomfortable as he surveys my small living room. I run back to my bedroom, leaving him perusing my bookshelves.

I look through my closet quickly, pausing when I notice my cowboy boots. With a smile and a bit of a chuckle, I grab some socks, reach for my boots, and pull them on.

When I walk back into my living room, Jasper is watching me. He laughs at the boots, because now we're matching. I take his hand, running my fingers softly over the scars I find there. He tenses almost imperceptibly, then relaxes as he watches my fingers for a moment, looking contented.

"So where are we going?"

"Somewhere 'definitely Austin.'"

His hand grips mine more tightly, and we are off.

My foot is tapping excitedly on the sidewalk as we wait in line outside the Continental Club. I know I didn't tell him it's my favorite live music venue, but I can't hide my enthusiasm now.

"Is this okay?" he asks. "You look nervous."

"No, it's perfect, I love it here. Just nervous-excited."

Pride flashes across his features, and my heart races in response.

We walk into the club together, his hand resting gently on the small of my back. The atmosphere is intense as always. It's a small venue, intimate when crowded, and it's always crowded. It's still a little early; the main act won't take the stage until at least 10. Tonight it's a local jazz ensemble rocking out arrangements from Duke Ellington's songbook, and the excitement in the air is palpable.

He grabs a local microbrew for me, a soda water for himself, and we claim a small table up against the wall. The entire wall is one long bench with several tiny tables along it, so seating is quite cozy. Jasper and I are sitting close; I feel his body against the entire length of mine. We sit awkwardly for a moment, sipping our drinks and making stilted conversation over the music. His arm moves to rest behind my shoulders, and the small gesture seems to relax the entire situation. I feel comfortable, safe, and wanted. I relax into him, leaning gently against his chest.

The jazz ensemble finally takes the stage, and the crowd is ready for action.

I feel Jasper's fingers tapping against my shoulder, matching the rhythm of the percussion. My body is alive with the energy of the room.

He leans in close to be heard over the music.

"Do you like jazz?" he murmurs, and the sound of his deep voice sends shivers up my neck.

I turn to speak into his ear, my lips brushing against his cheek on the way.

"I love it."

"Dance with me?"

I nod, and he takes my hand. We slide carefully out of our booth and make our way to the small open area. There isn't much room for dancing, but there's enough. I feel his eyes on me as I start to dance, the rhythmic swing of the music driving my movements.

Before long, I feel him move in behind me. His hands rest tentatively on my hips, and mine move to cover them. I feel his chest against my back, his breath moving across my neck, under my ear. His hands slowly increase their pressure until he's holding me firmly against his body. I lean back against his chest and we sway gently together: I'm lost in the music, the motion, the man behind me.

He pulls away eventually. I vaguely register that time has passed, songs have begun and ended. He takes my hand and leads me back to our table. We relax into our seats again; this time his arm is immediately around my shoulder and my hand rests on his knee. His fingers drum against my skin as we take in the rest of the set in quiet appreciation. When it's over, he silently leads me back outside and to the car.

"So what's next, Mr. Whitlock?"

"Kerbey Lane?"

"Pancakes?"

"Pancakes."

"Perfect."

"Exactly."

It's almost midnight when we walk into the cafe, but we still have to wait for a table. Jasper rests his hand on my hip as I lean into him. He's lowly humming bits of the music from earlier, though I don't think he realizes it. We're finally seated and he leads me to our table, his hand in mine. I feel somehow grounded by the constant contact, and I relish it.

Our table is tucked away in a secluded corner in the back of the restaurant. The room is quietly buzzing, but a different sort of energy than the club. It's mellow and homelike, and I smile because that's exactly how I feel whenever I'm here. Jasper is still humming, quietly, as he looks over the menu.

We both order pancakes, because you can't come to Kerbey Lane and not order pancakes. Especially after midnight.

"One gingerbread, one pumpkin?" he asks, looking amused.

"They taste like fall when you eat them together. Don't judge. You and your boring buttermilk."

"Boring? Buttermilk isn't boring, it's classic."

"Boring."

He shakes his head, laughing, and gives up the argument. Victory. He reaches out and takes my hand, which was lying on the table.

"So, are you having a good birthday so far?"

"One of the best," I offer. His eyes light up in response. I watch as they dart to something behind me, and he looks worried for a moment. He squeezes my hand a little tighter.

"Okay, don't freak out… they're not going to sing. But you can't have a birthday without candles," he explains, and I can't help but smile at the insecurity I see before me.

Our waitress brings our pancakes, and three flickering candles adorn my short stack. My thumb moves over his hand as I try to reassure him. This moment is priceless and adorable, and I don't want him to worry about my reaction. I watch the light of the candles dance in his eyes, and I'm momentarily lost.

"You aren't going to cry now, are you?" he asks, and I see amusement now in place of concern.

"Not a chance. I told you, I'm a big girl now."

"Happy birthday, Bella," he says. "Make a wish."

I glance down at my candles, but all I can think about is the boy sitting across from me, holding my hand so gently. I look back up at him, but he's not there. His empty eyes have lost focus, staring somewhere over the candles. I want him here with me, not just in body but in mind and soul. I want all of him. I close my eyes, and exhale.

**–*–*–**

_**July 19, 1995 (Jasper is 8, Rosie is 2)**_

"_Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you_

_Happy birthday, dear Jasper_

_Happy birthday to you!"_

_We were all sitting at the kitchen table when my mom set my birthday cake down in front of me. It was chocolate and yellow swirl with chocolate frosting. I knew because I watched her make it this morning. _

"_Make a wish, sweetheart," Mom said, and she looked so happy right then._

_Everyone did. Rosie was laughing and clapping. She had been talking about having "happy cake" for my "happy birthday" all week long. She was so excited. Dad was holding her on his lap and he was smiling at me, too. He told me this morning that I was practically the man of the house now that I was eight. He said he was proud of me for being such a good big brother to Rosie and helping my mom so much. _

_I closed my eyes and I couldn't really think of anything to wish for at first. All I could think about was how happy everyone looked. So I wished that one day I'd be a dad with a happy family of my own. And I wished for a basketball hoop in the driveway._

_I opened my eyes and looked around at my family again._

"_Hey Rosie, you ready to help me blow the candles out?" I asked, because we had been practicing all week. I taught her how to do it the right way when she turned two in April._

"_I weddy! One, two, twee!"_

_We both took a deep breath and blew, and all the candles went out. I smiled at Rosie, and she clapped and cheered 'hip hip hooray.'_

_I took all my candles off one at a time and licked the frosting off of them. I let Rosie have two, because she was two. And she was my baby sister and it made her happy._

"_Happy buffday, Jasp-uh," said Rosie._

"_Thanks, sweetie. You ready for happy cake?"_

_She nodded and clapped again. Mom brought in a big knife and started cutting pieces for everyone. She handed me a plate first, and I put it in front of Rosie. Dad told me that gentlemen always let ladies go first. Even if it was your birthday. _

_My cake looked perfect. The swirled kind was my favorite, so Mom always made it for my birthday. It was Dad's favorite too, and his birthday was just last week so we've had a lot of marble cake lately. That's what Mom says swirled cake is called. I guessed it sort of did look like the inside of some of my marbles. _

_We finished eating our cake really fast. Rosie got it all over her face and in her hair somehow, so mom took her to give her a bath before her nap. _

"_Come with me," Dad told me. "I have a special present for you."_

_I followed him into the living room and watched while he pulled a box off the top shelf of the closet. It wasn't very big, like maybe a couple of video tapes would fit inside. He went and sat in his big leather armchair by the fireplace and waved me over. I was too big to sit on his lap now, so I started to sit on the footrest in front of him. He picked me up and sat me on his knee, though, and I smiled. Even though I liked being grown up, sometimes it was nice just to be a little kid._

"_I've been waiting to give this to you for awhile now, Jasper. I think you're old enough to appreciate it now, and I want you to have it. It's something very special to me and I expect you to take good care of it."_

"_Of course I will, Dad."_

"_I know you will."_

_He handed me the box and I just held it for a minute. I turned it around in my hands a few times. It was really heavy, whatever it was. Definitely not movies. I unwrapped it slowly and carefully. I couldn't believe what I saw inside, and my mouth hung wide open while I stared at it._

"_What's the matter? Don't you like it?"_

_I watched my dad, and he looked like I hurt his feelings._

"_Of course I do, I like it a lot. But… it's yours. I don't understand why you're giving it to me."_

_He pulled his old camera out of the box I was still holding and put the empty box on the floor. He looked down at the camera and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He looked happy and sad at the same time._

"_I'm giving it to you because it's special to me, and so are you. I've seen the way you watch me when I'm taking pictures. This is something I want to share with you. Something that makes me happy."_

_He took the strap and put it around my neck before he handed me the camera. For some reason it felt heavier than it did just a minute ago when it was in the box. I guessed it was pretty cool that he wanted me to have something so important. I looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled right back at me._

"_I don't know how to use it, though."_

"_Don't worry," he said. "I'll teach you."_

_We spent a long time right there, in his big armchair. He showed me all the buttons and how to put the film in the right way. I watched really carefully with that part because he said it was the most important thing. If you didn't put the film in the right way, nothing else mattered._

"_This part is called the lens. You turn the focus ring here on the lens to focus on whatever you're taking a picture of."_

"_What does 'focus' mean?"_

"_You want whatever is most important in the picture to be sharp and clear, just like you were looking at it right in front of your face and not in a picture. If something isn't in focus, it's blurry, and you won't be able to see it very well."_

_He held the camera up to my eye and I watched while he turned the lens to focus. I was looking at the flowers on Mom's coffee table, and when he turned it they went from really fuzzy blobs of color, to flowers, and back to blobs._

"_Wait, they're blurry again, you missed it."_

"_I can't see what I'm doing. Why don't you try it now?"_

_He handed me the camera, putting the strap back around my neck. I held the camera up to my eye so I could see through it, and pointed it over at the table again. I saw the flower blobs sitting there, and started to turn the lens. I went too far and they got blurry again, but after a few tries I learned to just turn it a little bit at a time. When they finally just looked like flowers, I pushed the button and heard the camera click._

"_I did it!"_

"_You did it," he said, and he looked so happy again. He told me to go on and practice, so I hopped down off his lap and went to find more things to take pictures of._

_Rosie was still asleep, so I went to the kitchen where my mom was making dinner. I snuck up behind her and watched her at the stove, through the camera. She was moving a lot so it was harder than the flowers, but I finally got it right and pushed the button. She jumped when she heard the noise and turned around._

"_Oh Jasper, sweetie, you scared me," she said, but then she saw the camera. "Do you like your present? Daddy was so excited to give it to you."_

"_I love it, Mom. Thanks."_

_She smiled at me before she turned around to finish cooking. _

_I heard Rosie talking in her room so I told Mom I'd go get her up. When I went in, she was sitting in her crib, holding her baby doll. She loved that baby like it was a real one; she was always pretending to feed her and stuff. She didn't hear me come in until the camera clicked, and then she stood up and started laughing. I picked her up and set her down next to me._

"_Hey Rosie, look what Daddy gave me for my birthday!"_

"_Wooooow," she said, and she looked really impressed._

"_You want to go on an adventure with me?"_

_She nodded, and her eyes were still huge and round and it looked like she was saying "oh." _

"_Okay sweetie, we're looking for really cool stuff to take pictures of. I'm gonna follow you, so let's go in the backyard and you can find me something really cool, okay?"_

_She nodded again and smiled, and I took her hand to walk outside. It was kind of hot outside but we were having fun so we didn't care. I followed her all around the backyard. She loved helping her big brother with things because it made her feel like a big girl, so she was really excited. She found lots of bugs and flower and rocks and stuff, and I even let her push the button a few times._

_It started getting dark then and Mom called us inside for dinner. We all sat down at the table except for Dad. He picked up the camera, stood across the table from me and Rosie, and told us to get close together. Mom came and knelt down behind me and Rosie and put her arms around us. _

"_Okay, everyone say 'happy birthday!'"_

"_Happy birthday!" we all yelled._

_He clicked the button, and Mom leaned over to kiss my cheek. _

"_Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you so much."_

_I smiled, and I didn't even wipe the kiss off._

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**a/n: Thank you for reading! Reviews are love. :)**

**Thank you to my betas jackbauer aka staceygirl and justaskalice. **

**Happy holidays! See you next week.**


	5. Style

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, but Jasper owns me.**

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"**What the human eye observes causally and incuriously, the eye of the camera notes with relentless fidelity." - Berenice Abbott **

Darkness fills our classroom. I glance to my right and watch the light from the television screen as it flickers across Jasper's face. My fingers intertwine with his, our hands resting on my knee just below our desk. His thumb runs softly over a small scar on the back of my first finger while we listen to our teacher speak.

We're watching a slideshow of photographs from some of the most influential photographers in history. I've seen most of their work before, but seeing it like this is a different experience entirely. I'm struck by the ease with which I can identify each artist. Even if I'm not familiar with the print, there are recognizable traits that carry through their entire body of work.

"Style is what holds your portfolio together. It's what makes a professional as opposed to an amateur. It's what makes you recognizable, distinctive, memorable. It's why people 50 years from now will look at your work and think it still matters. Before you can develop your own style you have to understand what that involves. This week, I want you each to choose one photographer from our slideshow and look very closely at their body of work. I want you to identify what ties each photograph to the others and why. Then I want you to spend a few days trying to emulate that in your own work using techniques, subjects, angles… whatever you think best demonstrates your chosen artist's style. Once you're finished we're going to mix your work with theirs in a slideshow and see how well you fit in."

I catch Jasper's facial expression in my periphery. He looks anxious and exhilarated, exactly how I feel. It's an intimidating assignment, but the challenge only serves to heighten my excitement.

Jasper chooses Ansel Adams and I sign up for Dorothea Lange. We make plans to meet before sunrise on Friday as we walk out to the parking lot, hand in hand.

My alarm goes off at 5:00 on Friday morning. I lie in bed for a few minutes, trying to remember why on earth I'm waking up when it's still dark outside. Once I'm coherent, I roll out of bed and throw on my clothes. Jasper will be here at 5:30 to pick me up for our day of style emulation.

We've been studying our respective photographers all week, and I'm fairly confident that I understand enough about Lange's work to be able to copy it passably. I'm nervous, though, about failing. I wonder if it's really possible to deconstruct another artist's work enough to understand and emulate it. I'm worried that I'm somehow doing her disrespect in the process. I hear a knock on my front door and all my concerns vanish.

Blue eyes are waiting on the other side. This morning they're tired, but still bright with enthusiasm.

"I see you're wearing shoes this time," he says, smiling cockily.

"Ha ha. Very funny, cowboy. You should know I don't respond well to sarcasm before nine."

"Should be an interesting morning, then."

I take his hand and he leads me out to his car. I haven't paid much attention to it before now. It's sleek and silver and definitely a classic. It seems to be very lovingly cared for, and I make a mental note to ask him more about it. I reach out for the door handle, but he grabs my wrist, spinning me around and backing me up against the door.

"Jasper, what are you doing?" I whisper.

He leans in closely, tracing his nose along my jawline and up to my ear. One hand rests next to my head on the car door frame, the other moves slowly up my neck and into my hair where it secures itself firmly. My stomach clenches in anticipation, and I feel my heart begin to race furiously.

"Giving you a proper good morning."

I grin unabashedly, and when his lips find mine they're gentle yet eager. My hands move to grip the front of his shirt, trying to pull him just a bit closer. I whine softly when he starts to pull away, clinging tightly to his shirt. He chuckles quietly, his lips lingering on mine for a few more sweet moments. My hold loosens gradually, and we both sigh as we part.

"If that's proper, you should be proper more often."

"I think I might be able to manage that, with you."

"You're such a selfless gentleman."

"I try."

"Well we better get moving if we're going to make it to Mt. Bonnell before sunrise," I say, but my eyes are watching his as they gaze intensely at my lips.

He smiles lazily and leans in once more, offering one last kiss. His lips barely brush mine, but I feel the same rush of energy as a few moments ago.

"Jasper," I whimper.

"Yes, ma'am."

I roll my eyes, and he smirks at me, pulling away before reaching around me to open my door. He takes my hand once we're both seated and we head out.

It's still dark as we hike up the trail to the top of Mt. Bonnell. It's the highest point in Austin and overlooks Lake Austin and the hill country. The light is best at sunrise and sunset, so here we are: flashlights in hand, camera bags in tow, me holding tightly to his hand as we make our way to the top.

When we reach the peak, dawn is just breaking. Jasper sets up his tripod and checks the settings on his camera, adding a shutter release cable to minimize camera movement. Ansel Adams is famous for his use of light, depth, and contrast in his images of the untouched wilderness. He's also famous for his patience. I watch Jasper carefully as his sure hands make minute adjustments to the setup. When he's ready, he turns to grin at me, his enthusiasm apparent. Now all we can do is wait for the perfect light.

He watches patiently as the sun begins to rise and light filters over the valley below us. He takes his time, capturing a few shots from different angles. Around nine, the magic of the early morning glow has dissipated. He packs up his equipment and then offers me his arm as we make our way back down to his car.

For my assignment, we're driving out to Fredericksburg, Texas. It's a strikingly scenic drive to a small historical town, and I'm hopeful I can find a few rustic images to use. Dorothea Lange is famous for her documentary work in the American West during the depression. Her images are simple, yet speak volumes on life, hardship and poverty. She drove slowly cross-country, jumping out of the truck at random moments, whenever a scene spoke to her.

I watch the pavement as it disappears beneath and behind us, and the tree-covered hills undulating in the distance. The hill country is serene and statuesque in its simple beauty.

Jasper's hand grips mine gently, and his thumb moves over the scar on my hand again. I watch as his brow furrows slightly. He brings my hand in front of his face to examine the mark, brushing his lips over it gently before he turns to speak.

"Tell me about this one. How did it happen?"

I smile and feel myself blush. He laughs, kissing the scar once more. His eyes plead with me as he does.

"Please? I won't laugh, promise."

"Fine. You just worry about keeping your eyes on the road, cowboy. I'll tell you."

His answering smile is victorious.

"When I was about twelve, I wanted to surprise Charlie with a homemade dinner for his birthday. I rushed home from school so I would have plenty of time. Roasted sweet potatoes are his favorite, and… well… have you ever tried to cut a sweet potato?"

He shakes his head, and I can tell he's trying to hide his amusement.

"Well they're extremely hard to slice through. My knife slipped, and I cut my finger pretty badly. I ended up having to go to the hospital for stitches. Needless to say, we had pizza for dinner instead of sweet potatoes. And I was banned from knife duty for a year."

He's trembling slightly with the effort it's taking not to laugh.

"I'm still banned from sweet potatoes."

That breaks him, and he lets loose with a hearty laugh. The sight of him laughing so freely is too much; I can't help but join him. He brings my hand back to his lips, kissing my scar quickly three times along its length.

"How many?" he asks.

"How many what?"

"Stitches."

"Six."

"That's really impressive, for just a little finger."

"That's what my doctor said. I've had a fair few in my lifetime."

He quiets quickly, and I feel his hand tense slightly around mine.

"What about your hand?" I ask.

"What about it?"

I feel his grip tighten further. I take his hand in both of mine, bringing it to my lap so I can run my fingers over the rough skin on the edge of it.

"How many stitches?"

"None."

"None?"

"None."

"Why not? It looks like it was pretty bad."

"It was. I… I didn't go to the hospital."

"Why not?"

"I didn't think I needed to. By the time I realized I should have, it was too late."

I feel the tension radiating off of him. It crawls up my skin and into me, chilling me quickly.

"How old were you?" I ask.

"Fifteen," he answers, in barely a whisper.

I examine his facial expression, and it looks like panic is seeping in. I twine my fingers with his, squeezing his hand reassuringly, but the tension lingers. I bring his hand slowly to my lips, twisting his wrist slightly so I can trail three tender kisses along his scarred flesh. His eyes flash to mine, then down to my lips. I leave one more lingering kiss, watching the anxiety in his face as it dissipates, gradually replaced with curiosity. I move his hand back to my lap, holding it securely in both of mine once more.

He smiles weakly, relaxing slightly before turning back to face the road.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

I shake my head in amusement and go back to gently caressing his old wounds.

We arrive in Fredericksburg around lunchtime and stop to eat at an old German restaurant on Main Street. We spend the afternoon wandering the town, taking pictures of the old buildings, classic cars, and friendly faces. When the sun starts to go down in the late afternoon, we decide to head back to Austin. My plan is to stop along the way to photograph the countryside, now that the light is once again soft and rich.

We stop at a rustic looking farmstand by the side of the road. The paint is beginning to peel away from the wooden structure, and the elderly proprietor looks like his skin may be ready to do the same. He's selling the first of his fall produce – beets, pumpkins, and apples – the first tangible signs in the hill country that the weather is breaking and autumn is on its way. Jasper charms him into a lengthy conversation about his life and his land while I set up my camera equipment.

By the time Jasper moves out of the frame, the man is at ease, smiling proudly back at us. The light filtering across his stand is perfection. I know as I click the shutter that this is going to be something special.

Jasper speaks to him once more when I finish, and the old man gives us permission to wander his peach orchard, although this late in the year the trees have all been picked bare. I reach for Jasper's hand, and we meander together through the trees. The sun is setting slowly behind us as twilight settles in. The silence between us surrounds me, but it's comfortable rather than claustrophobic.

"Jasper?"

"Hmm?"

"You're so quiet. Where are you?"

"I was just thinking about my dad," he begins. I notice that he appears content rather than sad or anxious. "We used to drive out here together in the summer to pick peaches after Rosie was born. We'd spend all day driving around and in the orchards, and he'd point out all the beautiful scenery and everything. Then when we got home, Mom would make a peach pie from what we picked."

"He sounds like he was a good man."

"He was. The best sort of man. He loved me, my mother, and my sister more than anything. My mother loved him more than anything. She was never really the same… after. I told you she checked out, but it was more than that. It was so hard to watch her. She just sort of went to pieces, bit by bit."

His eyes are sad and distant, and I wonder what he's seeing right now. I grip his hand firmly with both of mine.

"I don't know exactly, but I sort of understand. My dad has never been the same without my mom. He does his best to hide it for my sake, but there's no mistaking the pain I see in him."

"Part of me wonders if it's worth it, to love someone so deeply that you can't function without them. It's a lot, gambling with your whole heart and whole life like that."

I pause for a moment, but I don't hesitate in my answer.

"I think it's worth it. Charlie was never the same, but we've had a great life. He's a wonderful dad, and I like to think I've made him happy and proud. It's not perfect, but it's something."

He stops walking then, and turns to me. The hand not held by mine moves up to cup my cheek gently, his fingers threading into my hair. I lean into his touch, my eyes meeting his with equal intensity.

"Something," he murmurs. "Something is good."

"Jasper? What do you remember most… about your dad?"

His eyes trace a path over my face: eyes, lips, jaw, cheekbones, eyes… My skin tingles and burns in response to his gaze, as if he had actually touched me.

"He taught me about photography as a way to appreciate the beauty in my world. He was so good at that… at finding the beauty in everything," he whispers. "It might be fleeting or it might be everlasting, but all beauty deserves to be worshipped."

My heart races, my breath hitches, and I feel his thumb brush tenderly over the apple of my cheek. I realize as the wetness spreads that he has just wiped away a tear. His gaze holds mine, and I see a spark of adoration which has replaced the sadness there before. I know in this moment that I want him to look at me in this way every day. Every day for as long as he'll stay with me, I want to be the reason for that look.

My hands move to the front of his shirt, pulling him down to me as I stand on my toes. His lips meet mine tentatively, but only at first. His hand tightens in my hair as his other arm wraps around my back, pulling me closer. I feel his heart beat beneath my hands, and its frantic rhythm matches my own. I feel wanted, connected, loved. I know that this energy between us is more than fleeting; it could be everlasting.

By the time we part, my hands have somehow found his hair and darkness has settled around us. We're both breathing heavily, and I'm shivering slightly, but not from the slight chill in the air.

He chuckles quietly and tucks me under his arm and into his chest, leading me carefully back to the car. I hear him humming a familiar melody, and the tranquility I feel in this moment quiets my trembling and leaves me with a satisfied smile on my lips.

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_**July 4, 1999 (Jasper is 11, Rosie is 6)**_

"_Rosie?" I whispered._

_Silence. _

"_Rosie, come on. We gotta go, sweetie."_

_I spoke a little louder this time but was again met with silence. I laid my palm flat against the closed door. I had installed a lock on the inside of the closet about two months ago. Mom had had a particularly bad night, and I got in her way. She was too far gone to remember it the next day. I wasn't so lucky. The side of my neck twitched as I thought about it, and I ran my fingers over the small scars there. I could hardly forget days like those when the evidence was staring back at me every time I looked in the mirror. _

"_Rosie," I was pleading at this point. "Garrett will be here soon to pick us up."_

_After a few moments, I heard shuffling behind the door and then the sound of the lock sliding out of place. Nothing had happened tonight, but lately I had been really cautious. I always sent Rosie to hang out in the closet if the drinking started to get out of control. My mom always said it was better to be safe than sorry. Somehow I didn't think this sort of situation was exactly what she meant._

_The door cracked open, and I saw Rosie's bright blue eyes. She looked nervous and afraid. _

"_It's okay sweetie, nothing happened. She's asleep now. I'm sorry I scared you."_

_I heard her take a deep breath before she opened the door all the way, looked around the room, and then walked to where I was crouched in the doorway. _

"_You alright?"_

_She nodded her head but stayed quiet. I was about to open my mouth again to speak when she suddenly threw her arms around my neck. I hugged her for a long time, moving my hand in circles over her back. My mom used to do it when we were little, to soothe us if we were sick or had a nightmare or something. It always calmed us down, and now it was sort of a reflex for me when Rosie was upset._

"_You ready to go?"_

"_Yeah, let's go."_

"_Alright, be quiet in the hallway. We can go wait for Garrett on the porch so he doesn't try to come in."_

_I stood up and took her hand, and we tiptoed carefully down the hallway toward the front door. I closed and locked it behind us and sat down on the front steps with Rosie. _

_It was about seven o'clock now, and the sun was starting to go down. It was still so hot. July in Texas was always miserable. Tonight was going to be fun, though. Today was the Fourth, and our next door neighbor Garrett was taking us up to Mt. Bonnell to watch the fireworks. He said it was the best spot in Austin to see them. If Garrett said it was the best, it was probably the best. He seemed to know just about everything about everything, which was sort of a problem lately. _

_I knew he had noticed my new scars a couple months ago. I tried to lie, but there was something in the way he looked at them and at me. He knew something was up. He looked… almost scary. I knew I was going to have to be more careful to keep him from finding out the truth. If the police took us away now, Rosie and I might be separated. If I had to suck it up every now and then to keep what was left of my family together, then that was what I'd do. Rosie was worth it._

_Garrett had always seemed a little too curious. He moved in when I was nine and he was starting law school, just a year after my dad died. It was right before the anniversary… right before things really started to go bad. So I guess you could say he'd been with us since the beginning. I always wondered how much he really noticed. Lately he looked a little too long at a new bruise or cut. His eyebrows would pull together just like my dad's used to. When he asked what happened, he looked me square in the eye to try and see if I was lying. I was pretty good at it, but I don't think I fooled him. Not really. _

_Luckily, he was really busy with school and whatever else you do when you're trying to become a lawyer. My mom had him babysit sometimes when he first moved in, before she decided I was old enough to do it myself. She'd drop us over at his house if she had "errands" or stuff like that. I'm not really sure where she went during the day, but at night I knew exactly where she'd be. She stopped sending us over there last year, but he still hung out with us when he had free time. Like tonight._

_I heard him open and close his front door, and while he was walking over I took a minute to remind Rosie of the rules._

"_Hey Rosie?"_

"_I remember, Jasper."_

"_Remember what?"_

"_No talking about Mommy. Ever."_

"_That's my girl."_

_She gave me a weak smile, but when Garrett came walking up our sidewalk it turned into a huge grin. _

"_Hey beautiful!" he said, scooping Rosie up in a big bear hug before turning to me. "You guys ready to go?"_

_I nodded, and he put Rosie down and gestured toward the front door. _

"_Don't I need to tell your mom we're leaving?"_

_I kept a carefully neutral expression on my face._

"_Oh, no that's okay. I already told her where we were going. She's not here right now anyway."_

"_Not here? Where is she?"_

"_I think she said she was going to the grocery store. She said to tell you thanks for taking us and to ask if maybe you wanted to come over for dinner sometime soon."_

_He watched me closely as I spoke, never taking his eyes off mine. I always felt like he could look right through me, and tonight was the same. I wasn't sure what he would see. He didn't seem to find whatever he was looking for and relaxed just a bit. I could still sense the edge of tension when he spoke, though._

"_Of course, tell her I'd appreciate that. I haven't seen her in a long time."_

"_Yeah, she's been pretty busy lately."_

"_Huh. Well busy is good, I guess. Should we hit the road? Gotta stake out a good spot right in front for my girl, here," he laughed, squeezing Rosie's shoulders. "She's a little on the short side."_

"_Hey!" yelled Rosie. "I am not short, I'm six!"_

"_And now that you're six, you're as clever as clever…"_

"_So I think I'll stay six now forever and ever!"_

"_Very clever, short stack," Garrett said, grinning. _

_Rosie was clearly pleased with herself, and I was happy to see her having fun with someone she looked up to so much. We all piled in Garrett's old Jeep and headed for the lake._

_We hiked up the trail to the top of Mt. Bonnell, Garrett and I each holding one of Rosie's hands. She was excited and chattering non-stop about the fireworks. She hadn't been to see any since she was two, before Dad died, and she couldn't remember that._

_We staked out a spot right in front, just a few feet back from the edge of the cliff. Rosie was a little nervous about being up so high, but I kept my arm around her and she seemed to calm down. _

_We sat and talked until it started to get dark. _

"_So what have you two been up to this summer? I haven't seen you guys around much."_

"_Yeah we haven't been at the house much," I started. "We've been hanging out at the library most days, or going to the park or swimming at Barton Springs."_

"_That sounds like fun. You're lucky your big brother takes such good care of you, short stack," he said, elbowing Rosie's side. I blushed, and she flinched and scowled back at him._

"_I know that, he's way cooler than you."_

"_You wound me," he laughed._

"_Good, you hurt me, too. Your elbow is really bony."_

"_Not as bony as yours."_

_She elbowed him back, and he pretended she had really hurt him, falling flat on his back and clutching his side. He was really convincing._

"_Garrett? Are you okay? I'm so sorry."_

_Poor girl looked so upset. Garrett started laughing and sat up, and Rosie went back to scowling._

_Just then, the fireworks started, and everyone got really quiet. They exploded high above the lake and you could see them mirrored on the water. Rosie gasped and reached out for my hand. I turned to look at her, watching her eyes grow somehow wider with each burst of light. I could see the colors reflecting in her eyes and across her face. _

_She looked so innocent. It was easy to forget how little she still was sometimes, with everything she was getting used to around the house and with Mom. Moments like these reminded me why she was so important, and why I had to protect her innocence no matter what. I knew I could get through all of this. I could be strong enough, for her. I didn't want her to be scared of broken bottles, belts, or raised hands; I didn't want to see her use her arms to shield her sweet face. It might have been too late for me, but I had to save Rosie._

_I looked up at Garrett, and he was already staring at me. He was really tense, and his eyes were a little sad. I wondered if he knew what I was thinking. I tried my best to smile back at him, and before he could try to read me, I turned back to watch the fireworks. I was glad he couldn't speak over the noise, and I didn't think he'd try in front of Rosie anyway. _

_Before the show was even over, Rosie fell fast asleep. She slumped over against my chest, and I tightened the arm I had around her shoulder. When we got up to leave, I bent to pick her up and carry her to the car, but Garrett's hand on my shoulder stopped me._

"_Don't worry, kiddo," he whispered. "I've got her this time."_

_I opened my mouth to argue, but he shook his head at me and effortlessly scooped her up in his arms. In that minute, I remembered my dad. I remembered his strength, and the way he had carried me exactly the same way so many times. I remembered feeling small in his arms. I remembered that I had thought he was Superman: strong, powerful, invincible. _

_I shook my head to clear it and turned to follow Garrett. He was quietly whistling a song, and I recognized it immediately from a CD he always played in his car. I smiled and started humming along with him, and together we made our way down the hill, in the darkness._

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**a/n: Thank you for reading, reviews are love. **

**So now we've met Garrett! I hope you guys like him because he'll be sticking around. Do you have a story about a scar? I'd love to hear it.**

**Speaking of love, I love both of my betas... justaskalice and jackbauer aka staceygirl are awesome. TheHeartOfLifeIsGood is the bees knees for pre-reading. She just started posting a continuation of her Indies one shot. It's called The Long Way Home, and you should check it out immediately. **

**Also, I had an anonymous reviewer ask a question, but I can't respond if you don't sign in… she wanted to know where Jasper works. He still works at the library as was mentioned in chapter 1. **

**Lastly, check my profile for more info, links, and banners. Hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season. See you in the new year. :)**


	6. Stop Action

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I still own my camera.  
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"**Photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again." – Henri Cartier-Bresson**

I'm late tonight, and this time he's waiting for me. As I walk quietly through the corridor into the darkroom, I hear his boots shuffling inside. I notice when I enter that the safelights are dimmer than usual. I can barely make out his form in front of his enlarger station, the same as it was that day when I first kissed him. My heart beats a little faster at the memory, and I smile to myself. I make a mental note that he must prefer the lights that way for the next time I'm the one to turn them on.

I try to sneak up stealthily behind him, but just as I reach him he suddenly turns, startling me.

"Thought you could sneak up on me, did you?"

"Well I certainly thought I'd try," I laugh.

"You're going to have to try harder than that, Miss Bella," he responds, an easy grin on his lips. "I could feel you coming from a mile away."

"Oh you could, could you?" I whisper.

"I could," he says, reaching out for my arms. He pulls me around so that my hips are flush against the edge of the enlarger station, facing away from him. He lets go of me but stays so close behind me, even without actually touching me I can feel him along every inch of my body. My skin practically crackles with the frisson of energy between us.

"Do you feel that?" he murmurs. I nod weakly. "That's what I feel every time you walk in the room, Bella."

His finger moves to trace a line up my spine, starting at the very base of my lower back and ending at my hairline. I gasp and shiver at the shocking sensation his touch sends through my body.

"Every time you look at me, every time you touch me, it's the same thing. Do you feel it, too?"

"I do," I choke out.

His finger continues up my neck, and soon his hand is wrapped tenderly around my long, high ponytail. He pulls it gently to the side, stepping in closer so he can leave a kiss below my ear. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. As if he can sense my predicament, his chest is suddenly against my back and his free arm is fitted securely around my waist. I lean back into him, and he chuckles, his kisses continuing along my neck and jaw. My hand makes its way to his hair, holding him close to me. I twist in his arms, and my lips find his. He kisses me slowly, languidly, deeply. This kiss is different – new and intense – and I feel my pulse beating frantically beneath my skin. Surely he must feel it too.

He pulls away suddenly, and I feel the tension fill the air between us.

"Jasper, what in the –"

"Shhh."

Then I hear it. Footsteps are falling in the hallway just outside the darkroom. I straighten my shirt and his and pull away from him, turning to my own station. My hands rest on the edge of the station and I lean into it, taking deep calming breaths and trying to regain my composure. When I glance at Jasper, his posture mirrors my own.

His eyes meet mine and we share a nervous smile before we're not alone.

"Bella? Jasper? Is that you?"

"Hey, Charlotte," I say, trying not to sound as though she's intruding. This is technically class time, even though we're almost always alone at this hour.

"God, I can hardly see you guys. Why are the safelights so low?" she responds, reaching out to adjust the brightness.

"No!" I blurt out. She turns to look at me questioningly. I finish with a mumbled, "I like them darker."

"Oh," she answers. "Well, okay. I guess I'll get used to it in a few."

She moves quickly to her station and starts setting up her work. I turn back to Jasper, who raises an eyebrow quizzically. I shrug.

"Well, I do," I whisper.

"So do I," he chuckles.

We work silently side by side through most of the evening. I catch him staring at me often, and I'm thankful that my blush is hidden under the camouflage of darkness.

Charlotte packs up to leave first, and we follow soon after. Jasper takes my hand to walk me to my car, his fingers threading with mine comfortably. As we get closer to my car, his pace slows, and I feel his grip tighten minutely as his arm becomes rigid, his body strained. The nervous energy between us builds, and I wonder what he's worried about.

We reach my car and I lean with my back against the door, turning to face him. His eyes are downcast and his brow is furrowed. He opens his mouth to speak but hesitates, closing it once more.

"Jasper, just spit it out," I laugh nervously. I have no idea why he's so anxious.

I pull his hand into both of mine, my fingers finding their now familiar path along his rough skin. He takes a deep breath, and his eyes meet mine. They're insecure and apprehensive, so I try to smile reassuringly.

"Bella, are you busy tomorrow? After class?"

"No, not at all. Did you have something in mind?"

"Well, yes, actually. You can say no if you're not comfortable with it. I know it's a little soon," he trails off.

"Hey, just tell me. I promise I'll be honest with you."

His eyes search mine, and seem to find their own confidence in them.

"I want you to come with me to my house. I want you to meet my sister, Rosie."

I know this is a huge step for him. His sister is his whole world, and I hope my answering smile helps to calm his nerves.

"Jasper, I'd love to meet her."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Good, because she's been bugging me about meeting you for weeks."

"Weeks?"

"Weeks and weeks. Since… well, pretty soon after I met you," he mumbles, ducking his head bashfully.

"I can't wait to meet her. If she's important to you, she's important to me," I assure him. He beams at me in return.

"What time?"

"Pick you up at seven? She wants to make dinner for us."

My heart lurches at the idea of his sixteen year old sister making dinner for us. This should, theoretically, be a big moment: meeting his family. His mom should be carefully appraising me over a home-cooked meal. His dad should be embarrassing him and cracking jokes to ease the tension. Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Somehow I'm more nervous about meeting the sister I know he's given up so much for. She's everything to him… what will I be to her?

"Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. Maybe a dessert? I'll ask her when I get home."

"Call me later?"

"Of course."

He leans in to kiss me sweetly, smiling against my lips before he pulls away.

"I'll see you at seven, Bella," he murmurs.

"I'll be waiting."

He's at my door at seven sharp, and I'm waiting with a peach pie for dessert. He closes his eyes and leans in close to take a sniff of pie, a smile lighting up his face when he registers what I'm holding.

"Peach?"

I nod, smiling, and he moves around to my side, leaving a quick kiss on my shoulder and one on my cheek.

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did."

"Well let's go then. Rosie's waiting for us."

"Okay," I mumble, a little shakily.

"Hey, don't worry. She's going to love you."

"Yeah?" I ask, still a bit unsteady.

"I promise. How could she not?"

"If you say so."

"I definitely say so."

His lips find mine quickly before he leads me to the car. Our drive to their house is nearly silent. My knee bounces anxiously until he reaches out and takes my hand, entwining our fingers and soothing my nerves. I concentrate on breathing deeply, closing my eyes and holding tightly to Jasper's hand to ground myself. I picture the photograph of Rosie I saw that day in class. I imagine a girl who has grown up without a father, an absent mother, but a brother who is entirely devoted to her. I remember the sadness in her eyes, the smile on her face. I wonder if the gradual loss of her mother has crippled her as thoroughly as the quick and complete loss of mine has crippled me.

Jasper squeezes my hand, and when I open my eyes we're sitting on a shady block in South Austin, in front of a charming little bungalow. The clapboard walls are pale yellow and warm in the early evening sunlight. A well-worn wooden swing hangs in the ancient magnolia tree in the front yard, both swaying slightly in the breeze. Curtains are gently wafting in the open windows along the front of the house. It's the picture of domesticity, and I half expect to see an apron-clad mother figure walk out the front door with a baby on her hip and flour streaked across her cheek. The irony that Jasper and Rosie live here in their own, broken family hits me hard.

My car door opens, and my handsome gentleman offers me his hand. I take it and step out onto the sidewalk, waiting while Jasper gets the pie from the trunk and hands it to me.

I hear the screen door to the house open and close, and I watch as the beautiful blond girl from the photograph walks slowly out onto the porch. She looks apprehensive, her eyes considering me carefully. I offer her a grin and a half-wave, and she smiles timidly in return. Jasper takes my free hand firmly, and I watch her eyes move down to where our hands are joined. She smiles a little wider, and then her whole face transforms when her eyes meet Jasper's. She's grinning incandescently, and no trace of the sad little girl in the picture remains. We walk up the rest of the walkway quickly, and soon I'm standing nervously in front of her. Her sapphire blue eyes are clear and bright, and her cheerful countenance warms me. Her expression falls only slightly when she turns back to face me, and she looks timid once more.

"Hey, sweetie," Jasper says. He stands between us, one hand holding mine, the other rubbing her shoulder gently. "I'd like you to meet Bella."

Her arms wrap around her torso protectively, tightly.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Rosie," I begin. "Your brother talks about you so much, I feel like I've known you my whole life."

Her eyes question his briefly before she answers me.

"Likewise, he never shuts up about you these days," she laughs, and the tension immediately dissipates. "I told him if he didn't bring you over to meet me soon I'd hunt you down myself. I was starting to think you were his imaginary girlfriend or something."

"Rosie…" Jasper pleads, clearly uncomfortable with her teasing.

"Oh be quiet, you," she says. "You know it's true. You never talk about girls, and all the sudden it's 'Bella this' and 'Bella that' and 'Bella's so sweet and beautiful and takes lovely pictures.' Of course I thought she was imaginary."

She winks at me, grinning in victory, and in that moment she is truly her brother's sister.

"You said 'lovely'?" I ask him.

"Man, you girls really know how to make a guy feel loved. Can we just go inside now? I'm hungry."

"Of course you are," Rosie laughs. "Do you always think with your stomach?"

His face falls slightly, and I wonder why this upsets him. He recovers quickly.

"Only when you're mean to me."

"So all the time, then?"

"Bingo."

We move inside for dinner, and it's relaxed and comfortable and easy. We sit on the floor around the coffee table to eat. Rosie is barefoot and laughing, and Jasper is holding my hand while he smiles, clearly at ease. I try to remember why I was so apprehensive about this evening, but my nerves seem to have escaped me. She's slightly shy and reserved with me, but still charming and friendly. With Jasper, she comes alive.

"Don't you give me that look, Jasper Whitlock," Rosie starts, her eyes teasing. "I really think Bella deserves to know exactly what she's getting herself into. Unfortunately for you, that includes your charming ability to –"

"Can it, short stack," he interrupts. "Unless you want her to know just how ladylike your laugh is when I tickle you."

He reaches out, taunting her, but she doesn't back down.

"Bella, you should know that I snort. There, I said it. I'm not embarrassed. You're the one trying to make a good impression here, Jasper, not me," she giggles.

"Oh really? That's not what you were saying this afternoon. You were pretty worried that Bella wouldn't like you, your snort, or your fancy mashed potatoes. Or do I need to jog your memory?"

"Jasper!" she squeals, punching him in the shoulder. "They're not fancy, they have roasted garlic in them."

"Sounds pretty fancy to me," he mutters.

I watch how she connects with him. I see the same strength and tenacity in her that I've come to love in her brother. I wonder if it's a product of their situation or a trait they've always shared. The way they interact – all smiles and teasing banter – makes me ache for the brothers and sisters I'll never have. I shake my head to clear the unbidden image of myself laughing in pajamas with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed sister.

He squeezes my hand gently, bringing me out of my daze and into the present. We're just finishing our pie which was apparently a big hit. He's looking at me the way he did in the orchard, and my breathing stutters in response. My eyes break away to Rosie's; hers are radiant, but tinged with the edge of pain her brother's hide so often. She smiles warmly at me before moving to clear the dishes. I excuse myself to help her, kissing Jasper on the cheek as I stand up. She's quiet in the kitchen, and we work quickly, washing and drying in tandem.

"Bella," she starts, pausing to inhale deeply. "Thanks for coming over tonight. It was really great to meet you."

"Don't be silly, why are you thanking me? I was so excited when he asked me, and a little nervous, to be honest."

"Nervous, why?"

"Rose… I don't know if you realize this, but you're kind of everything to him."

"He's everything to me, too," she says, and her smile is wistful. "He's a really good brother, I'm lucky to have him."

"I know what you mean."

Jasper walks in at that moment, and Rosie offers me a heartfelt hug in parting. Jasper kisses her forehead and tells her he'll be back soon after taking me home.

The drive to my apartment is quiet but comfortable, the night beautiful and clear. A full moon shimmers down, reflecting on the rippling water of the lake. Jasper's thumb traces lazy circles along the scar on my hand, and I smile at the sense of peace between us. When we stop, he gets out and walks around to my door, opening it and offering his hand. As soon as I'm on my feet, the door is closed and I'm backed up against it. His lips are on mine for a moment, and our kiss is intense and heated. I sigh as he pulls away to whisper in my ear.

"Thank you, Bella. It means a lot to me… you meeting my sister."

"You're silly."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I think meeting her means just as much to me."

He pulls away to beam at me for a moment before taking my hand to walk me to my door.

"Goodnight, Bella," he says quietly, bringing my hand up to his lips for a chivalrous kiss.

"Goodnight, Jasper."

"Goodnight, moon," he whispers.

And just like that, he's gone. His eyes are cold, dark, and distant. I feel goosebumps erupting over my body which have nothing to do with the chill in the air or his hand on my skin, and everything to do with the sudden distance between us. I don't know where he has gone, but I am alone.

**–*–*–**

_**September 28, 1995 (Jasper is 8, Rosie is 2)**_

"_Jasper? Jasper, sweetie it's time to get up," Mom whispered._

_She was gently rubbing circles on my back with her hand. She woke me up this way every morning and it always made me smile. I opened one eye and looked up at her. She was wearing her apron over her bathrobe and had her hair up high on her head. I knew what that meant._

"_What's for breakfast, Mom?" I mumbled._

"_Biscuits and gravy," she laughed. "Do you always think with your tummy?"_

"_Only when I'm sleepy."_

"_Well rise and shine, cowboy, or Daddy's gonna finish all your breakfast."_

"_Yes, ma'am."_

_She leaned over and kissed my cheek before standing up to get Rosie out of her crib. Rosie was sitting down in one corner talking to her baby doll. I sat up in bed and watched Mom pick her up and carry her over to me. Rosie liked to bounce in bed with me before we went to eat breakfast. _

"_Good mownin, Jasp-uh!" she squealed._

"_Morning, sweetie. How did you and Baby sleep?"_

"_Baby had a nightmawe," she said. Her eyes were open wide and she looked really scared._

"_Oh, poor Baby. Did you give her a kiss and make it better?"_

"_Yes. Baby wants a Jasp-uh kiss, too."_

_She held her baby doll out to me and I gave her a kiss and patted her head. It was silly but it made Rosie feel better. _

"_All better, Baby?"_

"_Baby say all bettah."_

"_Good. You ready to go have breakfast with Daddy?"_

"_Yes!"_

_I climbed off the bed and lifted Rosie down. She took off running, and I chased her into the kitchen. Dad was already sitting at the kitchen table with his breakfast and Mom was pouring him a cup of coffee. He put down his paper when we ran in and smiled. Rosie ran across the room and jumped into his lap._

"_I sit with you, Daddy?"_

"_Sure thing, sweetie," he said and kissed her on the forehead. "Good morning. And good morning to you, too, Baby. And Jasper," he winked._

"_Baby say good mownin, Daddy."_

_I climbed into my chair next to Dad and Rosie and put my napkin in my lap before Mom had to tell me to. I already had two biscuits on my plate, and Mom came and put a sausage patty and some gravy on top. When she was finished serving everyone, she gave Dad a kiss and then sat down across from him at the table._

"_Thanks, Mom," I said. "This looks really yummy."_

"_It smells wonderful, honey," added Dad._

"_Thank you, boys." Mom smiled._

"_Momma, Baby say she not hungwy."_

"_Tell Baby that's okay as long as Rosie eats her breakfast," Mom laughed._

_Rosie smiled and handed Baby to Dad so he could put her in Rosie's chair. Mom and Dad talked about what everyone was doing today while we ate breakfast. Dad said he had a meeting after work so he wouldn't be home until late._

"_That's okay, Jack. We can wait and eat dinner when you get home. I'll just put Rosie down for a later nap so she can stay up a little longer. I'm making your favorite meatloaf tonight."_

"_That sounds great, honey," he said, and he smiled really big. "I'd much rather eat with all of you, and I shouldn't be any later than seven."_

_They smiled at each other across the table. It was one of those really mushy smiles, so I just looked down at my plate and took another bite of biscuits._

"_Jasper, sweetie, finish up. You need to go get dressed so you don't miss your bus," said Mom._

_I scooped the last few bites in my mouth and washed it down with orange juice. Rosie came running into my room after me to "help" me get dressed._

"_Rosie, I don't think I can wear jammies to school. The teachers might send me home."_

"_But I like. They yewwow."_

"_I know, I like the yellow ones, too. Maybe you can find me a regular shirt that's yellow."_

_She pouted a little, but put the jammies away and started looking for a yellow shirt. She couldn't find one, though, so she picked out a Longhorns shirt instead._

"_This one owange. I like owange, too."_

"_That's my girl," I said. "Daddy will like this one."_

_I pulled on my shorts and the shirt Rosie picked out. She found me some socks to wear under my sneakers, too._

"_Okay, sweetie, let's go. I have to catch my bus."_

"_The school bus is yewwow, too, Jasp-uh."_

"_I know it is. You're so smart, Rosie."_

_She smiled really big and grabbed my hand. We walked back into the kitchen. Dad was reading his paper, and Mom was leaning over his shoulder to read. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, and Dad was reaching up to hold one of her hands. They were both smiling. They looked so happy._

"_Umm… Mom?" I said. "I have to go now."_

_Dad dropped his paper, and they both looked over at me and Rosie. _

"_Okay baby, come give me a kiss goodbye."_

_I walked over and kissed her on the cheek, and Dad turned to give me a hug. _

"_Don't forget your lunch, Jasper. It's next to your backpack, by the door. I packed an extra brownie for Peter."_

"_Thanks, Mom," I smiled. Peter was always after my dessert. _

"_Have a good day at school, Superman," said Dad, and he winked at me._

"_Thanks, Dad, I will. I love you."_

"_Love you, too."_

"_What about ME?" yelled Rosie._

_We all laughed, and I bent down to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek._

"_I love you the most, sweetie. I'll see you after school. Don't you and Baby have too much fun without me, okay?"_

"_Okay Jasp-uh. I see you latah."_

_I gave her one more kiss and then grabbed my lunch and my backpack and ran out the door. Peter and his mom were waiting for me at the corner where the school bus came to pick us up, like every morning. Mom and Rosie were always waiting for us when we came home after school. _

"_Good morning Mrs. Kerby. Hey, Pete."_

"_Good morning, dear. How are your mom and dad?"_

"_Fine, thank you, ma'am. Mom packed brownies for me and Peter."_

_Peter grinned and gave me a high five. The bus turned around the corner then and pulled up in front of us. Peter's mom gave him a kiss on the cheek and he blushed and tried to pull away. I didn't blame him. That was a little embarrassing in front of the whole school bus._

"_Mooom," he whined. "We have to go."_

"_Okay, bye you two. Stay out of trouble and have a good day at school!"_

"_Bye Mrs. Kerby!"_

_We both climbed on the bus and walked all the way to our seats at the back. We were the big kids on our bus, so we got to sit in the cool seats all the way in the last row. I watched out the back window as we drove away. Peter's mom was waving to us, and so was my dad. He was getting in his car to go to work. I pressed my nose up against the window and waved back until I couldn't see him anymore. _

_School was boring, except when we talked about Christopher Columbus in Social Studies. Peter and I had PE together at the end of the day, so after we changed back into our regular clothes we walked down to the bus stop together. We sat down on the grass and waited. I pulled the brownies out of my Superman lunch box for us to eat. We always saved dessert for waiting for the bus._

"_Your mom makes the best brownies, Jasper," Peter said. It was kind of hard to understand him because he had almost the whole brownie in his mouth. "My mom only makes cookies."_

_I told him to stop being a pig, and he punched me in the shoulder._

_The bus pulled up then so we climbed on and rode home. Rosie and Mom were waving when we pulled up. Rosie was still holding her baby doll. She never let that thing go._

"_We missed you, Jasp-uh!" yelled Rosie._

"_Welcome home, sweetheart," said Mom. "Did you have a good day at school?"_

"_It was okay. We learned about Columbus. And I think I did okay on our math test."_

"_That's my boy," she said, and she ruffled my hair with her hand. Mom tried not to kiss me in front of the other boys like Peter's mom did. She was cool like that._

"_So do you boys want to come in for a snack, or are you still full on brownies from the bus?"_

"_How did you know we –"_

"_You've got crumbs all over you, baby. Next time brush the evidence off your shirt."_

_Mom started laughing. Rosie giggled and told me that Baby thought I was so silly. I grabbed her hand and Peter walked behind us into the house. _

_Mom had already set up places at the table for all four of us. We each had another brownie and a glass of milk. Peter came over for snacks every day because his mom worked at the library until five. Mom asked us more about our day while we ate our brownies, and then we put our dishes in the sink and started our homework. _

_Tomorrow would be Friday, and we always had spelling tests on Fridays. Mom quizzed us both on our words while Rosie and Baby made brownies in her play kitchen in the corner. They were really just blocks, but Peter and I pretended to eat them and that they were really yummy. That always made Rosie happy._

_Peter's mom came to pick him up after awhile and I took Rosie to our room to play while Mom started dinner. I got out some Sesame Street coloring books and crayons, and we both lay on our bellies on the floor and colored pictures of Elmo. Elmo was Rosie's favorite._

_Mom came in to get Rosie for her bath at six. I kept coloring to finish Rosie's picture for her so we could hang it above her crib before bedtime. I pushed down really hard with my crayon and colored in little circles, just like Dad showed me. That way, Elmo really looked fuzzy. It was a pretty cool trick._

_After Rosie's bath, I took my shower by myself. We all put our jammies on, even Mom. She said since it was so late for dinner we could have a special pajama picnic. She pushed the kitchen table out of the way and put a picnic blanket on the floor with our plates on it. She left dinner on the stove so it stayed hot for Dad, but we all sat down on the floor together and played Candyland while we waited. _

"_Rosie, you're going the wrong way."_

"_I go back to the candy cane fowest, Jasp-uh!"_

"_But that's the wrong way, Rosie. You're trying to get to the end, see?" I pointed to the house at the end for the hundredth time, but Rosie didn't care. She made up her own rules. Mom raised her eyebrow and smiled at me. I rolled my eyes._

"_Okay, Rosie. Whatever you want. But you're not going to win that way."_

"_But I have candy canes!"_

_Mom and I both laughed. _

"_Mom, what time is it?"_

"_It's 7:30, Jasper," she said. She looked a little worried._

"_Isn't Dad supposed to be here by now?"_

"_I'm sure he just ran into some traffic. Don't worry, baby, I'm sure he'll be here soon."_

_She bit her lip when she finished talking. Why couldn't I worry? She was worrying._

"_Okay."_

_We played two more rounds of Candyland. Well, Rosie's Candyland. She showed us all her silly rules about going backwards to all the good parts. It was a little more fun that way. _

_Mom wasn't playing anymore. Rosie was sitting in her lap, and Mom just kept staring at the door and the big clock hanging on the kitchen wall._

"_Mom?"_

"_Yes, Jasper," she sighed._

"_What time is it?"_

"_It's 8:00, baby."_

"_Mommy, I weawy hungwy," said Rosie._

"_Okay, I guess you two go ahead and eat. I'll wait for Daddy."_

_Mom stood up and went to the stove, filling our plates with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and brussels sprouts. I didn't like brussels sprouts, really. This was my dad's favorite dinner though, and brussels sprouts were his favorite vegetable. I always pretended to like them. Maybe someday I would. _

_Mom was starting to look really nervous. She picked up the phone a few times and held it to her ear. It never rang, so I didn't know what she was listening for. After a few minutes, she walked to the front door and looked outside. She came back to the kitchen but didn't sit down. She walked in circles around the room with her hands around her chest, like she was hugging herself. _

"_Mom?"_

"_What, Jasper?" she said, and she sounded angry._

"_I'm sorry, Mom. I'm just worried about Dad. Why is he so late?"_

"_Oh I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to snap at you," she said, and she came and sat next to me, pulling me into her lap. "I'm just worried. We're being silly, though. I'm sure Daddy is just stuck in his meeting. Are you finished with your dinner, Rosie? It's bedtime." _

_Rosie nodded and yawned. Mom took her to the sink to wipe her hands and face before taking her to bed. _

"_I'll be right back, Jasper. Please answer the phone if it rings, in case it's Daddy."_

"_Yes, ma'am."_

_I finished my dinner and then walked down the hallway to the front windows. I could hear Mom reading _Goodnight Moon_ to Rosie in our room, and it made me smile. It was always my favorite book and now it was Rosie's, too. She made us read it to her at least three times every night. _

_I looked up in the sky and I could see the moon. It was huge and almost a circle. It was so pretty._

_I heard the bedroom door shut, and Mom walked up behind me. _

"_Come on, Jasper, let's go have a brownie while we wait."_

_We sat back down on the picnic blanket, and Mom reached out for my hand. I scooted over next to her and leaned on her. She put her arm around me, and I heard her take a deep breath._

"_It's okay, Jasper. Don't be scared. Daddy will be home any minute."_

"_I know, Mom, I'm not scared."_

"_That's my boy. I'm sure he'll be here any minute. He's probably just stuck at his meeting."_

"_I know, Mom."_

"_He should be here soon, I bet there was traffic."_

"_It's okay, Mommy. Don't worry."_

"_I'm not worried, baby. I'm not."_

_I was so tired, so I leaned down and put my head in her lap. She started singing "You Are My Sunshine" and rubbing circles on my back. My eyes were heavy, and the next thing I knew, there was a loud knock at the door. I was groggy, and it must have been really late. All the lights were off in the house. Mom laughed and jumped up, and I thought I saw her wipe some tears from her eyes. _

_I stood up and followed her to the front door, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes._

_She started to throw the door open, laughing._

"_Jackson Fuller Whitlock, have you lost your key again? I swear if I have to tie that thing around your -"_

_She stopped when she saw a policeman standing in the doorway instead of my dad._

"_Are you Mary Elizabeth Whitlock?" he asked. He looked very serious._

"_Please, call me Mary Ella. Is there something I can help you with, officer?"_

_The policeman stared at her for a few minutes and then over at me behind her. He looked very sad. Mom turned to me and held out her hand. I walked up to her side and put my arm around her. She rested her arm on my shoulders._

"_Mrs. Whitlock, I'm very sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I have some bad news about your husband."_

_I felt Mom's arm tighten around my shoulders. Her fingers were digging into my arm so hard it almost hurt. _

"_Yes?" she whispered._

"_I'm so sorry, ma'am, but your husband was in an accident earlier this evening. He was hit head on by a drunk driver on Mopac Expressway. We think he was on his way home."_

_Mom didn't say anything, but I could feel her shaking. Her fingers dug deeper into my arm._

"_I… I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't understand. Where is he? Why are you here? What hospital did they take him to?"_

"_They took him to Seton on 38th, ma'am, but –"_

"_Excuse me, but I need to get to the hospital now."_

_Mom tried to shut the door, but the policeman stopped her and held it open._

"_Mrs. Whitlock, your husband is dead. The EMTs think he was killed on impact. He was pronounced DOA. I think maybe you should –"_

"_NO!" she interrupted. She let go of me and fell down to sit on the floor. I bent down and put my hands on her shoulder but she didn't notice. She just kept whispering to herself. "Not again, this isn't happening. No."_

_I could feel tears in my eyes now. I didn't understand what was going on. We were having a picnic. Dad was supposed to be here. Was I still asleep? The policeman said he was… he was…_

"_My dad… he's dead?"_

"_I'm sorry, son, yes."_

_Mom was rocking back and forth and I realized she was crying too._

"_Mom, please don't cry, it's okay. Mommy, please."_

_She stopped and turned to look at me. Her eyes were red and puffy and she had tears running down her face. She reached out her arms and I fell into them. She hugged me and rubbed my back like she always did. We stayed there for a long time, rocking and crying together. _

_The next thing I remembered, Mom was laying me down in my bed. _

"_Mommy? Please don't go," I cried._

_She climbed in bed with me and hugged me close. She was still crying, too, but she sang to me again anyway. I was starting to fall asleep, but I heard her whisper to me one more time._

"_Shhh. Don't worry, baby, I'm not going anywhere. Everything's going to be okay."  
_

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**a/n: *hides***

**Well, it had to happen sometime, and now you know how he died. On a lighter note, what did you think about Rosie? Did the meeting go the way you thought it would? **

**I have a short JPOV outtake from the darkroom, so if you'd care to see it, let me know. :) **

**Love and many thanks to my betas. Jackbauer aka staceygirl and justaskalice are practically perfect in every way, and TheHeartOfLifeIsGood pre-reads and makes me feel better about myself.**

**Thank you for reading. See you guys next week!**


	7. Repetition

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the books, Jasper and the Longhorns own me.**

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"**Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still."**

**Dorothea Lange**

I sit peacefully with Jasper, our hands linked as always and resting in my lap. He leans ever so slightly toward me in his seat, his posture easy and relaxed. My body hums with the constant pull of energy I feel toward him. I've always noticed it, reveled in it, marveled at it. I've never really considered the rarity of what exists between us. I've never had a connection so powerful with someone, and ever since earlier this week in the darkroom, I feel as though I can't escape it. Until he showed me so openly that he felt it, too, I never truly recognized the depth, the intensity. Without even touching me, he sets me on fire. All I can think about are his eyes on me, his hands, his lips. I close my eyes, and he's all I see.

He squeezes my hand gently, and the grin on his face lets me know I'm caught. His eyes linger on my lips before they meet my gaze, and I see everything I feel mirrored in them. My face is hot and probably flushed enough to betray what's on my mind, but I can't bring myself to care. His stare gradually softens and he smiles gently, running his thumb in feather-light circles over the pulse point of my wrist. My breathing stutters momentarily.

He looks away suddenly and sits up a little straighter as our teacher approaches. I realize we had been sitting embarrassingly close, and I chuckle softly.

"Miss Swan, Mr. Whitlock," nods Mr. Berty, passing back our prints from our style excursion last week. "Very nice work, you two. The class should have a hard time discerning both your work from your respective artists in the slide show. If so, I see A's for both of you."

He smiles at us briefly before moving on, and I see pride written in every inch of Jasper's face. I love to see him so uncensored.

"Hey, Jasper?" I ask quietly. My stomach flutters uncomfortably with nervousness, and I pause. His thumb retraces its earlier pattern on my wrist, his eyes questioning mine, and I relax. "What are you and Rosie doing tomorrow?"

"I have to work until six, but nothing else as far as I know."

"Do you think you guys might want to go to the football game with me? My uncle isn't using his season tickets, so he sent them to me. I have four…so Rosie could bring a friend or date or something." I pause; he stares wistfully at nothing. "I mean, if you're not interested, that's totally fine. I'm sure Ben and Angela would love –"

"No, no," he finally answers. "I'm sure Rosie would love to go. We haven't been to a game since… well, in a really long time. That sounds great, Bella. Thanks."

His smile is warm and reassuring, without a trace of his earlier hesitation. I can't help but return it.

"Okay, great. Kickoff is at 7:30, so we should probably go as soon as you're finished at the library."

"Sure, definitely. I'll see if Mrs. Kerby will let me cut out a little early, maybe," he grins.

"Oh, I don't want you to get in trouble. If she – "

"Hey, don't worry about it. Mrs. Kerby and I go way back. I'm sure she won't mind. Hell, she'll probably be happy to be rid of me once she knows who I'm going out with," he murmurs, winking.

"You told your boss about me?" I laugh.

"Well, she's more than my boss. Her son Peter was my best friend growing up. We used to live just down the block from them."

Before he can tell me anything more, the lights dim and class begins. Mr. Berty shows each student's slideshow of their photographs mixed in with the portfolio of their artist of choice. We've all chosen lesser-known works to mix in with our own, to reduce the chance of famous prints being recognized. True to his word, the student emulations are pretty hard to pick out. Eventually my attention wanes and my mind wanders. I start to notice the heat of Jasper's hand in mine, the way his head tilts just slightly toward me. In the darkened classroom, my senses are heightened.

A quick glance at Jasper, and he's smiling knowingly at me. He's caught me again, I'm sure. And again, I can't bring myself to care. I wink at him, and he chuckles quietly. I take a deep, calming breath to settle myself before turning to turn my attention back to the lecture.

Jasper manages to talk Mrs. Kerby into letting him leave at five, so he's knocking on my front door the next day at six. He takes in my appearance with an easy grin and a raised eyebrow: wear-worn jeans, my cowboy boots, a vintage burnt orange shirt, and the longhorn charm necklace that was my mother's before me. Charlie bought it for her when they were in school, and she wore it religiously to all the football games they went to together or later watched from home. He gave it to me the day I opened my acceptance letter, with tears in his eyes. It was one of those familiar bittersweet moments with my dad – with hugs that were just a little too desperate, smiles that were always a little strained, and tears that could have been happy but were really born of grief. I try never to let him see how much those moments affect me, just as he tries his best to put on a brave face for my benefit. For him, the necklace is a painful reminder of a past which no longer exists, but for me it's a small, tangible piece of my mother that I can carry with me.

A strong hand on my hip draws me out of my reflection, and a thumb runs tenderly over the skin just under the hem of my shirt. Jasper's eyes are on mine, concerned and melancholy. I rest one hand over his on my hip while the other makes its way to his jaw. Soft lips are suddenly on my lips as a firm hand weaves itself into my hair. His hands pull me firmly against him. The energy is alive between us, but his kiss is sweet and innocent and just enough. I smile against him; as always, he seems to know exactly what I need. I pull away reluctantly.

"Rosie's waiting," I murmur.

"Right, Rosie," he grins, clearing his throat. "She brought her best friend Tanya with her. Don't be offended if she doesn't warm up to you right away. She comes on a little strong, but she's a sweet girl. They've been best friends since kindergarten."

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

The ride to the game is awkwardly silent. Rosie seems much more distant than when me met, offering me a tight smile and a nod. Tanya speaks to me only to say a brief 'hello.' After a few vain attempts to engage the girls in conversation beyond 'yes's and 'no's, I resign myself to sitting quietly and enjoying the subtle glances Jasper sends my way. He seems to have picked up on the discomfort in the car; his fingers drum erratically on the steering wheel while his eyes offer me apologies. I try to hide my disappointment from him, but I'm relieved once we park and get out of the car; the tension seems less suffocating in the open air.

The girls link arms and walk several feet in front of me and Jasper. I wonder if, in the few short days since we met, Rosie has changed her mind about me. I know I wasn't imagining her acceptance before. She was reserved, but even when we were alone in the kitchen she wasn't unkind. I decide that she's a sixteen-year-old girl, hanging out with her sixteen-year-old best friend, and I let it go. Jasper certainly couldn't have been the only one affected by their situation, and I have a feeling whatever relationship I'm able to build with his sister will take time and patience as well.

I relax into Jasper's side, resting my head on his shoulder as his arm wraps tightly around my waist. I smile, feeling his lips against the top of my head. My relationship with Jasper has been slow, and at times I still sense his hesitation. I don't want to push him to open up to me; I know that when he's ready to trust me, he will. If that's what he needs – what Rosie needs – I can be patient.

We make our way slowly toward the stadium, past ticket scalpers and dedicated tailgaters. Jasper never loosens his firm hold on me in the massive crowd which engulfs us, but his face is smooth and relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. Rosie and Tanya talk and laugh animatedly, still a few feet in front of us. Some of my best childhood memories revolve around coming to these games with Charlie, and I wonder if Jasper has similar memories with his own father.

"So, how long has it been since you came to a game?" I ask, and I regret it immediately. His arm tenses around me, his fingers digging into my flesh ever so slightly. His expression darkens perceptibly as his eyes and the set of his jaw tighten. We're waiting at a stoplight to cross the street onto campus, and his sudden stillness is unnerving. I'm about to break the silence and apologize when he relaxes minutely, takes a determined breath, and speaks.

"The last game we went to was fourteen years ago. It was less than two weeks before my dad died."

"Jasper, I'm so sorry. If you don't want to talk about it, I totally –"

I don't finish my sentence because his lips are on mine softly.

"Don't apologize to me, don't ever do that," he whispers against me, before kissing me languidly. I forget we're in a crowd of people, I forget his sister is standing four feet away, and I forget that I ever worry about the distance between me and this man. In moments like these he feels anything but distant, and I want to crawl inside this space of thrumming hearts, patient lips, and gentle embraces and never leave. He pulls away slightly, just inches, and his deep blue eyes are intense on mine. "I _want_ to talk about this with you, Bella, and I would tell you if I didn't. It's hard, and sometimes painful, but I think it's something I need to do. I want you to know my truths. And I want to know yours. If there's something you want to know, I don't want you to be afraid to ask."

I nod, smiling, and he leaves a lingering kiss on my forehead before tucking me back under his arm. I look up and catch Rosie staring at me over her shoulder. Her expression is part confusion, part something else entirely indecipherable. Her eyes soften as they fall on Jasper, and then she turns forward as the crowd begins to move across the street.

"So why haven't you been to a game since… well, since he died?"

"At first I didn't even think about going. It was always something we did together. I don't think I even considered that I could go without him. The year after he died, I thought about it a few times. My mom was in no shape to take me, though. I never even asked her. After that, Peter asked me a few times over the years. It just always seemed too painful, so I always said no. I was afraid it would hurt too much to see his absence here."

"And now? What made you change your mind?"

"I've been changing my mind about a lot of things lately, in case you haven't noticed," he chuckles. "I guess I decided there might finally be something here worth seeing."

"Jasper…"

"I'm serious, Bella. I don't think you understand. I don't know how you do it, but you make it easier to remember these things. When I'm around you, I feel like I can finally breathe again."

His words wash over me, leaving me feeling warm and confident, but I don't know quite what to say in return. I open my mouth to speak but instead seem to choke on the enormity of the words. The people milling around us who I had forgotten about just minutes ago suddenly seem entirely too close. Their shoulders bump mine and I can hear their conversations and laughter ring in my ears. His sister is still glancing surreptitiously over her shoulder at us. It's too public, too much, too soon. I know it's too soon for what I feel, and I think with Jasper, I need to let him get there first. So instead, I pull myself closer into his side, leaving a kiss next to my hand on his chest.

"I'm happy, Jasper. Really happy."

We reach the stadium soon after and pass through the gates at the south end. A sea of burnt orange surrounds us, and I can practically taste the anticipation in the air. It makes no difference whether it's a rebuilding year with more losses than any fan likes to see or a year like this year with whispered hopes of trophies and Pasadena. Just before the game, none of that matters.

I remember the first time I walked through these gates when I was five, clinging tightly to my dad's hand. The stadium has grown and changed since then, but the energy has not. I watched the people in awe, the chanting and cheering. I remember the excitement I saw on my dad's face, for once entirely pure and untainted. He was so proud to share this with me. Football has always been our closest bond, something we can enjoy together no matter what. He somehow loses himself in it, forgetting that he's lonely, tired, or stressed. If for no other reason than that, I have always loved football.

"Hey, I'm going to use the ladies' room before kickoff. Why don't you find our seats with the girls? I'll meet you out there."

"That's okay, we'll wait here for you. We still have plenty of time, and I'm in the mood for peanuts," he grins. "I'll meet you right here, with snacks. What do you feel like?"

"Mmm… popcorn? I might steal a few peanuts, too. My dad always gets those."

"You're lucky I don't mind sharing with you," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me.

"Okay, okay," interrupts Tanya. "Any more PDA out of the two of you and I swear I'm going to vomit in your popcorn. Keep it clean for the kids, _please_."

"Oh, leave them alone," laughs Rosie. She looks much more like I remember from dinner. I recognize that teasing twinkle in her eye that reminds me so much of her brother. "It's kinda cute. Big brother has a crush."

"Big brother is about two seconds away from me calling him whipped," mutters Tanya, rolling her eyes. She jumps when Rosie elbows her in the ribs. "Ouch! Please, like you weren't thinking it, too."

"I'm going to go with Bella. Jasper, will you get me a hot dog? We'll meet you guys back here in ten."

Rosie grabs my hand and pulls me away before Jasper can open his mouth to respond. The lines in front of the restrooms are already getting long, and we spend a few moments in awkward silence before she drops my hand and speaks.

"I'm sorry, Bella. Tanya can be a little much sometimes. She's just not used to seeing him like this. He's so different around you."

"Don't worry about it, she's funny. I don't think she likes me very much, though."

"That's not true, she just worries about him," she says quietly, and she suddenly looks pained. "She's been my friend for a long time, so she knows… everything. I worry about him, too."

"Can I ask why?"

"He wants to tell you everything on his own, so I'm going to let him do that. You should know, you're the first. He's never brought anyone home to meet me before. He's never talked about anyone the way he talks about you. I can tell he really cares about you. He's never wanted to talk about what happened before."

"I think I knew that. I mean, I know he's scared. I just don't want to push him."

"He'll tell you when he's ready. He hid from me for a long time, he won't do that again," she whispers.

She pauses, turning slowly toward me. When she speaks again, she and her eyes are pleading with me.

"Bella, you seem to care about him… but I need to know how much. He's been hurt, he's scarred. He tries to hide it, and sometimes I think they've healed, he's healed. I'm just so scared. He's been so strong for me. I can be strong for him, too. I just need to know you're not going to hurt him. If you cut him, he'll bleed. I'm worried he won't be able to survive another disappointment. I won't let you do that to him."

In the end, her eyes have transformed. They're as cold as ice and just as hard. Her voice shakes slightly, the only weakness betraying her otherwise unwavering show of force. I should probably be frightened or hesitant; this would normally be the time for someone less determined to cut and run. I reach out for her, resting my hands gently on her shoulders. She doesn't flinch from the contact like her brother did at first, which somehow surprises me.

"Rosalie, please don't worry. I've never cared about anyone this way before, and I have no intention of causing him any more pain. I know he's broken. I just want to help him put himself back together. I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes search mine, looking for a truth I hope she finds there. She relaxes slightly, her face suddenly calm again, and nods.

"I know. I think I knew that. I'm sorry, Bella."

"Don't. You're just being a good sister. I'm sure I would have done the same thing."

Her arms are suddenly wrapped tightly around me, and I'm momentarily stunned before I can reciprocate. I hold her close until she sniffles and pulls away. I pretend not to see the tears she's trying to stealthily swipe away. I pretend my eyes aren't wet either. I'm once again hit hard by the losses we've all suffered. Despite what happened to them, they're close and loving and supportive. Despite what I have, I can't help but be jealous. I wonder if, someday, Rosie and I will be that close.

The line moves forward into the restroom and we separate. I wait for her after I wash my hands so we can walk out to Jasper together. As we leave, the crowd is growing more dense and intense. Someone is leading a chorus of "Texas Fight," and Rosie and I enthusiastically join in. I see Jasper from a distance, carrying a large tray filled with assorted game time snacks.

As we approach, I'm suddenly cold. His eyes are full of an emptiness which is becoming much too familiar. I can barely hear Rosie calling his name over the roar of the crowd. I turn to her and I can tell she's frightened. I place my hands on his cheeks, willing him to come back from wherever he's gone. His eyes are unfocused, but peaceful. My thumbs run gently over his cheeks as I whisper his name.

"Jasper, please."

When his eyes meet mine, he smiles.

**–*–*–**

_**September 16, 1995 (Jasper is 8, Rosie is 2)**_

"_Jasper! Wait up, son."_

_I stopped and turned around to wait for them to catch up. Dad walked toward me with Rosie sitting up on his shoulders. He had one arm over her legs to hold her tight, and she was holding onto his jaw and giggling when he bounced. His other arm was around Mom's waist. She laughed and reached out her hand for me to hold. _

"_Sorry, Dad. I got excited," I shrugged._

"_Just stay close, I don't want to lose you in the crowd," he said, and he winked at me. _

"_Who are we playing today?" I asked._

"_Pittsburgh. They've won their first two games, but I think they ended up going 3-8 last year. We beat them, remember? It was a close one though, so you never know."_

_We kept heading down the sidewalk through campus. Dad always liked to walk around before the game for awhile, and since this was Rosie's first game, he wanted to show her everything. After a few minutes, he led us all over to sit on an old bench. I knew exactly which story was coming._

"_Hey, Rosie-bee?"_

"_Hey, Daddy," she giggled._

"_You see this bench we're sitting on?"_

"_I see, Daddy."_

"_Did you know that Mommy was sitting on this bench the very first time I ever saw her?"_

_Rosie shook her head, and Dad started his story._

"_Mommy was learning to be a teacher, right over there in that building. I saw her sitting here one day in a pretty yellow dress, and I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen."_

"_Jackson, please," Mom whined, and she elbowed him in the belly._

"_This is my story, Mary Ella, if I say you're the most beautiful, you are," he said. He kissed her on the tip of her nose before he started his story again. "Now, where was I, Rosie-bee?"_

"_Mommy's pwetty yewwow dwess."_

"_That's right. Mommy was wearing a very pretty yellow dress, and she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I walked by her at least three times before I was brave enough to say 'hello.' I was so scared she wouldn't like me, and I didn't want her to tell me to go away. I finally decided I could do it, and when I walked up to her, she said –"_

"_I said, 'You better sit down, cowboy, you're wearing a trail in the grass.' And it was more like seven or eight times, not three," Mom laughed._

"_I was trying to save face, honey. Thanks a lot," he said, but he was smiling at her. "Anyway, she said just that. So I sat down and asked her what her name was, and what she was learning about in school. We talked for a very long time. Before she stood up to leave, I knew I was going to marry her."_

"_He almost didn't say anything though. Don't you remember, Jack?"_

"_Of course I remember. You got up to go, and I didn't know what to say to stop you. But then you turned around and asked me if I was planning on letting you walk away just like that. And I said –"_

"_I don't plan on ever letting you walk away," she whispered. _

"_So I stood up, kissed you, and asked you to go dancing that night."_

"_You're such a romantic, Jack," she said. She was trying to tease him, but I could tell she liked it when he talked like that. She looked like she was about to cry, but not because she was sad. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss._

"_Aww, Daddy so sweet," Rosie said._

"_Daddy is very sweet, but we better get moving or we're going to miss the game."_

"_Yes ma'am, Mary Ella."_

"_Don't you 'ma'am' me. Let's go! It's almost time for kickoff."_

_She stood up and pulled Dad to his feet. He put his arm back around her, I grabbed her hand, and we walked off toward the stadium together._

_When we got there, Dad bought hot dogs for everyone and a bag of peanuts for us to share. He tried to buy Rosie some cotton candy, but Mom told him she couldn't have any until after the game. _

_We went to our seats and sat down. We were right in front by where our mascot Bevo always stood, and Rosie was really excited. She kept mooing at him and got a little upset when he didn't notice her. I showed her the real cannon and the big drum, and told her that the Silver Spurs were the men in cowboy hats who took care of Bevo. Dad was one when he was in school here, and he told me all about how much fun they used to have. _

"_You see, Rosie, Bevo lives on a big ranch most of the time, so he can eat grass and lay in the sun with the other longhorns. He's a lot happier there than if he was living by himself at the stadium. So before every game the Spurs have to go out to Bevo's ranch and catch him to bring him to the game. Doesn't that sound like fun?"_

_Her eyes were huge and round, and she nodded her head._

_I taught her how to sing 'The Eyes of Texas,' but she couldn't remember all the words. I showed her how to hold her hand the right way to do the 'hook 'em horns,' but she couldn't keep just two of her fingers up. I had to hold her middle two fingers down for her. _

"_See, Rosie, it looks like a longhorn this way. Your first finger and your pinky finger are Bevo's horns, and you use your thumb to hold down these two fingers in the middle to make his nose."_

_She tried her best, but she couldn't quite do it. It was still really fun, though, and Dad looked like he was happy that I was at least trying. I told her not to worry about it. When she got a little bigger, she'd be able to do it just like me._

_Just then, the band started playing "Texas Fight," and the football team ran out through the tunnel and onto the field. Everyone was standing and singing along, and clapping when we were supposed to. Dad taught me how to do it all last year, and I was getting pretty good at it. We were all standing on the ground except Rosie who was standing on the bleachers so she'd be taller. She was jumping up and down and singing the wrong song, but I laughed because she was so excited._

_Rosie got scared when they set off the cannon at kickoff, so Mom took her under the stands for a minute to calm her down. I moved closer to my dad to watch the game. During the first timeout, we sat down and opened our bag of peanuts. He passed a few of them to me and took a few for himself. The stadium got really quiet while everyone waited for the game to start again._

"_Hey, Superman?"_

"_What's up, Dad?"_

"_I just wanted to tell you that I'm really proud of you. I've been watching you with your sister over the last few months. You're really growing up. You've started being much more patient with her. You talk to her like you love her and not like she's just your silly baby sister. She really looks up to you, Jasper. You're a good big brother to her."_

"_Thanks, Dad," I laughed. I was a little uncomfortable. I wasn't expecting a big talk like this while we were at a football game. He handed me a few more peanuts and we were quiet for a minute. I concentrated on cracking open my peanuts. _

"_I mean it. Little girls need a good big brother to look out for them. Rosie's lucky to have you on her side. I know you're going to take good care of her."_

"_What does she need me for?"_

"_Sometimes girls need a little protection. Your sister is your responsibility. Someday she might have a bully picking on her at school, or a boyfriend who isn't nice to her. She'll always have you to take care of her when she needs you."_

_A boyfriend? Rosie? No way. I didn't want to think about that for a long time. A really long time._

"_Not only that, but with the way she looks up to you, you need to remember to always set a good example for her. She copies everything you do, you know. You don't want her to copy the bad things."_

"_No, sir."_

_He put one arm around me and hugged me close, and I felt him kiss the top of my head. I was about to make fun of him for being so mushy, but the crowd stood up again because the time out was over. _

_Mom and Rosie came back after awhile. Rosie had some new pom poms and a big smile on her face. She showed me how Mom taught her to shake them, just like the cheerleaders. She watched them all night long and told Dad she wanted to be one when she grew up. He looked a little nervous about that._

_It ended up being a really exciting game. Dad was excited because Ricky Williams, the new running back, scored a touchdown in the fourth quarter. He said he was going to be really good and promised we could go down by the locker rooms to get his autograph after the game. We ended up winning, but it was really close until the very end. I covered Rosie's ears for her every time we scored a touchdown so the cannon didn't scare her again. _

_At the end of the game, the band played "The Eyes of Texas" and the whole stadium sang along. I helped Rosie with her 'hook 'em horns' again and she sang along with the parts she could remember. Then Dad lifted her back onto his shoulders and we walked slowly down to the exits. He bought some cotton candy for Rosie on the way, and she was squealing because she liked it so much. It was her first cotton candy, and the look on her face when the first bite dissolved on her tongue was really funny. It didn't take long for her hands and face to get all sticky, and Dad was laughing about how we'd have to hose her off before she could come inside. _

_We made our way to the locker room to wait for the players to come out. I got the quarterback and a wide receiver to sign my shirt, and the running back named Ricky. He had really funny hair my dad called 'dreds' and he seemed really surprised that I wanted his autograph. My dad told me it was because he was only a freshman, but in a few years he would be famous._

_We started the long walk back through campus to our car. There were still tons of people all around us, and everyone was really excited about winning the game. Someone in the crowd started the Texas Fight chant. He yelled "Texas!" as loud as he could, and everyone else around him yelled "Fight!" Rosie didn't seem to understand, though. She kept yelling "Texas!" back at him instead._

_Rosie was getting sleepy, but she was still up on my dad's shoulders. She was slumped over on top of his head, and he kept having to shoo her hands away from his eyes so he could see where he was going. He had his other arm around my mom's waist, just like before, and I was holding her hand. _

"_Dad?"_

"_What's up, Superman?"_

"_When's the next home game?"_

"_It's not for three weeks. The next two games are out of town. But it's another afternoon game, so we can all go."_

"_That'll be fun, Dad."_

"_And I think I found some tickets from a guy at the office for the Oklahoma game in Dallas the week after that. I thought we could all go up together for the weekend. We can go to the State Fair and get Miss Rosie-bee some more of that cotton candy. How does that sound, baby girl?"_

"_Mmmm… totton tandy," Rosie mumbled. I was pretty sure she was already half asleep._

"_Can we go on the big Ferris wheel? Peter showed me pictures from when they went last year. He said you can see the whole state from way up there."_

"_Sure we can, but I'm not so sure if you can see the whole state," he laughed. "We'll see when we get up there, okay?"_

"_Okay. Hey, Dad?"_

"_Hey, son?"_

"_Thanks for taking us to the game today. I had a lot of fun."_

"_You're very welcome. I had fun, too."_

_I was so excited that it was finally football season. I thought about all the Saturdays we would spend just like that: all together and having fun. And sometimes when the games were at night, Dad said we could just go by ourselves since Rosie was too little to stay up so late. It was going to be a really good year._

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**Thank you for reading! Do you have a favorite memory from high school or college? Or how about a sweet first meeting?**

**Thank you so much to my lovely betas justaskalice and staceygirl aka jackbauer. They put up with my ridiculousness and make everything better.**

**Also, since I'm a dork, I started posting photos and more info on my livejournal page: daisy3853****[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Same time next week? :)**


	8. Negative Space

**Okay, gang. I don't usually say anything at the beginning, but this is very important. The flashback in this chapter carries a ****warning for physical abuse****. If you've read this far, you should know it's out there. This is the first time we're going to really see it. If it's going to bring back painful memories for you or upset you, please skip ahead a little bit. That's all I've got... so hold my hand, and I'll see you on the other side.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer still owns the characters, Jasper still owns me.**

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"**Character, like a photograph, develops in darkness." - Yousuf Karsh **

Jasper storms into class fifteen minutes late, mumbling an apology about being stuck at work to Mr. Berty.

"That's okay, Mr. Whitlock, please take your seat."

He slides into his chair beside me without looking up, greeting me with only a brief nod in my direction. His posture is rigid, and his fingers drum nervously on the tabletop. Before I can question him, Mr. Berty resumes the lecture.

"As I was saying, our assignment this week deals with negative space. Your subject shouldn't always fill your frame, and often times what you do with the background of an image is just as important as what you do with your focus. Negative space adds impact to your subject and gives it room to move and breathe. You want your subject to inhabit the frame, to live in it. You don't want it to be trapped there. The negative space in your image isn't the absence of space, but rather the defining of the positive space. It adds shape, definition, and composition to your subject. It's what makes your image come alive. This week I want you to use your negative space to the greatest possible impact. Use it to simplify and define. Figure out what is vital to your photograph."

Class passes by slowly, and Jasper's fingers never cease their rhythm. He never looks at me, not once. No teasing glances, raised eyebrows, or cocky smiles. He doesn't sit too close or lean toward me or try to hold my hand. I try to remember something – anything – from our time together the day before that would explain his distance, but I am at a loss.

We were relaxed and comfortable on his couch, eating pizza and popcorn and watching a movie with Rosie. We laughed at the acting together, and Rosie teased Jasper for having a crush on the lead actress. He dumped his popcorn on her and the three of us spent the rest of the night digging kernels out of the couch cushions and the carpet.

I remember holding his hand in mine on the drive home. Yet another perfect moment where even in silence, his presence was enough. My fingers brush over my lips as I remember the kiss goodnight I could barely make myself walk away from.

I know his mood has nothing to do with me; it's something deeper. I've seen his mood swing precariously before, and it always swings back.

As soon as the bell rings, he's out of his seat and heading for the door. I chase him to the parking lot, calling after him.

"Jasper! Wait up."

He pauses and turns around. When I reach him, he finally meets my gaze. His forehead is creased with worry and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. The Jasper standing before me right now is a world away from the man who held me last night. His lips press together to form a tight line instead of molding themselves perfectly with mine. His eyes are stormy seas, cold and distant instead of filled with need. His hands clench at his sides instead of pulling me closer. I feel the loss acutely, and I don't understand the cause.

"What is going on with you?"

His expression softens as he takes in the hurt in my expression. He sighs deeply before pulling me into a suffocating hug. I don't feel comfort, despite his closeness. Only distance.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to upset you. I just had a bad morning at work. Something came up. I really don't want to talk about it right now."

I pull myself from his embrace and take a step back. He glances around nervously, as if searching for something, someone.

"That's fine if you don't want to talk about it right now, but please don't walk away from me like I'm not even here."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I wasn't thinking."

He steps forward, holding my face in his hands and pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"I'm really sorry. Everything's fine, I promise. I just need to pick up Rosie."

"Is she okay? Did something happen?"

"No, she's fine. Nothing's wrong. I just really need to find her. I promise I'll call you later."

I nod, and he leaves one frantic kiss against my lips before he turns and jogs away.

It's almost midnight and I'm restless and nervous. I worry he's hiding something from me, but I can't figure out what it is. If it was just a bad day at the library, why was he so desperate to find his sister? What exactly constitutes a bad day at the library? He still hasn't called, and I'm pacing irrationally around my living room. I should try to relax and sleep, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something.

I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone finally rings, and it's him. I'm so surprised and relieved that it takes me a moment to realize that I need to answer.

"Jasper?"

"Hey, it's me," he says, his voice weak. "Sorry it's so late. Are you at home?"

"Yeah, do you want to come over? I was just… watching a movie."

I walk over to the television, sliding in the first DVD I lay fingers on and turning it on. The sudden brightness from the screen burns my eyes in the otherwise darkened room. He still hasn't answered, but I can hear him breathing softly on the other end. "Jasper?"

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble. I'm sort of already here."

He sounds nervous and hesitant, as if I might turn him away. It's endearing yet ridiculous.

"Come on up, the door's open."

I buzz him in and then wait for him in the open doorway. I hear him as he comes trudging up the stairs, his footfalls heavy and weary. I feel uneasy as he approaches, something I haven't felt around him in a long time. I don't have time to worry about what the difference is before he's standing in front of me, and one look at him is enough to see my answer written all over his face. I'm anxious because he is miserable. He doesn't meet my eyes, and the distance between us might as well be infinite instead of the inches I see. My skin goes cold as I take in his hardened features. My chest constricts as seconds bleed into minutes without even his acknowledgement of me, and I wrap my arms around myself protectively. My heart pounds furiously when he finally looks at me; all I see is defeat.

"You know you shouldn't just leave your door open like this, especially so late at night. Someone could come in here after you."

"I knew it was you. I could feel you coming a mile away."

The corners of his mouth barely twitch, but the air between us feels perceptibly lighter.

"It could have been someone else. You should be more careful."

"I was worried about you."

"Bella, I'm sorry to just show up like this. I didn't know where else to go. I sent Rosie to stay over at Garrett's house and I've been driving around all night. I just couldn't go home. I had to see you."

"Don't be stupid, of course you should have come here. I always want to see you," I laugh. "Wait, who's Garrett?"

"He's a family friend. He helps us out sometimes when we need him. Rosie will be safe there."

He looks up at me then. His face is tired and worn, and a sadness I haven't seen in weeks has crept back into his features. He offers me a half-smile, but it appears as more of a grimace. I grasp his hand and lead him over to the couch. He sits, leaning forward with his arms resting on his thighs as if he's worried about getting too comfortable. Instead of joining him on the couch, I sit on the edge of the coffee table just in front of him. My hands rest on his knees, my knees together in between his. His jaw is set in stone, his posture tight and unmoving. For the first time since I met him, I see the depth of the darkness that surrounds him. It consumes him, extinguishing whatever happiness it encounters. It leaves him battered and bruised before me.

"Jasper," I plead. "What happened to you?"

I'm met with silence. The only indication he gives that he has heard me is the deep breath I watch him take.

I inch closer until I'm sitting on the very edge of my seat, my face just inches from his. I reach out to trace my fingers over the heavy circles under his eyes, but he flinches away from my touch. I try to hide the hurt I feel, the desperation. I've been so hopeful about the progress he's been making, the progress we've made together. I refuse to settle into disappointment so easily. I reach out with both hands, cradling his face between them. I run my thumbs tenderly over his cheeks, and I feel him shudder against my touch. His eyes are closed, his brow furrowed. I feel myself absorbing the tension in his body. A crushing sensation creeps in through my fingertips and over my skin, settling in my bones where the weight of it suffocates me.

"Jasper, please don't shut me out. What happened to you?"

My words escape quietly, and not nearly as forcefully as I had intended. I can't seem to draw enough breath or to steady my heart. I need to show him I'm strong enough for whatever he's keeping from me. I want him to lean on me, to trust me. I want him to be confident in my support and in my affection, my love, whatever this is. I need him to know he's not alone anymore.

"Jasper," I demand, and this time his eyes flash open.

He finally sees me, and his eyes hold mine steadily. I watch his uncertainty slowly melt away: first into pain, next to regret, and finally into determination.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry," he murmurs. "I need you. I need –"

He hesitates for a moment, and I can see in his expression what he's about to do before he reaches out and pulls me to him. His lips are needy and forceful against mine, taking and giving all at once. His hands cling tightly to my hips, and I'm suddenly in his lap without realizing how I got there. My hands move to his hair, my nails scraping softly over his scalp. I hear him groan as he pulls me closer, and his kisses become faster, with an edge of desperation. His lips move to my jaw, quickly working their way up to the spot just below my ear. His grip tightens. His fingertips slide under my shirt, tracing a path up my back as I shiver against his touch. I can feel myself losing control right along with him, and I know this can't go any farther. Not like this.

"Bella…"

"Jasper, please wait."

He stills beneath me immediately, and I pull back to look at him, holding his face in my hands again. We're both breathing heavily, and his hands are shaking slightly at my waist. His darkened eyes roam over my face guiltily.

"Where is this coming from?" I question.

"I just wanted to be close to you. I needed to touch you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you."

"It's not that you were pushing me. I want you to be close, I need you to touch me. You just seem so frantic."

I can see him slipping away into emptiness, and I won't allow it.

"Listen to me," I begin, and my voice has finally found the confidence it needs. "I want you too, but not like this. Not because you're upset or angry or scared. You told me not to be afraid to ask you when I want to know something? Well here it is. I want you to tell me what happened between last night and this afternoon that's hurting you. I'm here for you, nothing you can say will scare me away. I need you to trust me to be strong enough for you."

"I do trust you. I just don't know where to start," he whispers.

"Why don't you start with what started this? You said you didn't want to go home. Did something happen with Rosie? Are you fighting?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just don't know what to say to her."

"About what?"

"About our mom. I got a letter from her today."

"A letter about what?" I ask slowly.

"She said she misses us and wants to see me… She wants to see Rosie. I can't let her, not again. She can't find Rosie."

His face is panicked, his eyes darting around frantically. I move my hands down his neck and to his shoulders, trying to massage away the weight which has settled there. I force myself to remain calm, to ground him. I can feel him slipping away. My fingers pass over roughness on his skin, just below his left ear, and I lean in to brush a tender kiss against it.

"Jasper," I murmur. "What did she do to you? To Rosie? Did she abandon you?"

He laughs humorlessly, and the sound is chilling. I sit back to judge his expression, taking in the sarcastic set of his mouth, the anger that lurks in the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, she left us, but not in the way you're thinking. I wish she had gone because that would have made things a hell of a lot easier. Leaving would have been nothing compared to what she did." He pauses for a moment, seemingly to gauge my reaction. He finds no trace of hesitation or fear, only concern.

"Please go on," I whisper soothingly. "I'm right here."

I bring my hands to rest gently over his chest, and he covers them with his own. His thumbs run tenderly over the backs of my hands, and when he speaks again his tone is much calmer, devoid of its previous venom.

"My mom is an alcoholic, Bella. After my dad died, she completely fell apart, piece by piece. I watched her deteriorate. I saw her slowly sink into this… this depression that I was never strong enough to pull her out of. My dad may have been the one who died that day, but he may as well have taken her with him. I think she wanted to follow him."

I feel as if I can't breathe. My chest is moving, but the air around me is not. It's heavy and perfectly still and ice cold, and I feel it smother me. I lost my mother before I ever had a chance to know her, and I've always lived with that void in my world. I've watched my father love her, miss her, and long for her every single day, but I have never once questioned his devotion to me. I've felt guilty for taking her away from him, but he's never given me any reason to doubt his love for me.

Jasper lost his father quickly and painfully, and he seems to have watched his mother drown in the depths of her own misery. His mother, who should have loved him enough to protect him and comfort him. She should have been strong for him the way Charlie was for me. I feel the unrelenting need to be close to Jasper and comfort him. I want to take away his pain but I don't know where to begin. I can't fathom the extent of the damage this has done to him, or what kind of scars this type of suffering could brand a man with.

"Your scars," I mumble.

"My… my what?"

"Your _scars_, Jasper. Did she do this to you?" I hiss. I grab his hand, and the roughness and lines my fingers have been learning intimately these past few weeks are suddenly transformed into something sinister beneath my eyes. "I thought you said you fell in some broken glass."

"This was an accident, a broken bottle. That's not important right now, Bella. What's matters is that when I was seventeen, she hit Rosie. I wasn't there to stop her one day, and she hit her. Someone called CPS and they took us both to group homes and then to foster care. They separated us," he says, and his voice is unsteady for just a moment. "As soon as I turned eighteen, I filed for custody. Rosie lives with _me_ now, she's my responsibility."

"Where has your mom been this whole time? Why is she just now contacting you?"

"I don't know. The last time I saw her was more than three years ago. She was still drinking, and I told her she needed to forget about us. She's not supposed to know where we live."

"Then how did she send you the letter?"

"The library. I've always worked there, since I was fifteen. That was the one place I couldn't run away from or cut out of my life. Rosie and I spent a lot of time there after my dad died, especially during the summer. I was trying to save up my money… I knew I had to get Rosie out of there. I just didn't do it fast enough."

His voice trails off slowly, cracking at the end, and when his eyes meet mine they're glistening and rimmed in red. His pupils are so dilated I can barely make out the blue which surrounds them. He collapses back into the couch, the heels of his hands digging at his traitor eyes. I feel it consume me: the overwhelming pull to be closer, to take away his pain. I lean into him, resting my head on his chest, my hand over his heart. His arms encircle me, holding me tightly against him. His heart thunders beneath my palm, and his body grows cold and clammy beneath mine.

"I won't let her hurt you," I whisper against him.

"She can't find Rosie. I won't let her."

His body tenses beneath mine until he's a statue with a pounding pulse. His breathing becomes shallow and rapid, and he mumbles so quietly I can hardly make it out.

"I won't let her past me. I won't let her scare Rosie anymore."

"Shh, it's okay, Jasper. We won't let her find Rosie."

"Not again."

**–*–*–**

_**April 29, 1999 (Jasper is 11, Rosie is 6)**_

_Swish._

"_Nice shot, kiddo," Garrett cheered. He grabbed the rebound and jogged back over to me. "You're getting better. Pretty tall now, too. Maybe one of these days you'll actually be able to beat me."_

"_I'll be just as tall as you soon. At least I'm not old, like you," I joked quietly._

_He grabbed my shirt and pulled me into a headlock, laughing the whole time. He gave me a noogie, running his knuckles through my hair so hard it almost hurt. I was laughing too hard to care._

"_Oh you think that's funny, do you? You think I'm an old man?"_

"_I'm sorry!" I gasped. "You're not _that_ old, only sort of old."_

"_Oh now just not that old?" He pulled me in tighter and raised his fist like he was going to go after me again._

"_Okay okay! Mercy! You're not old! You're not old at all! Mercy!"_

_He let me go and clapped me roughly on the shoulder as he pushed me away. My sides hurt from laughing so hard, and I could hear Rosie giggling over on the benches. Garrett met us on the playground after school every Thursday since he didn't have class until night. We'd usually play basketball or push Rosie on the swings for awhile, and then he'd walk home with us before he had to go to school._

"_That's more like it. Now come on, we better get you kids home. I've gotta shower before I head out."_

_Rosie ran over to us and grabbed Garrett's hand, pulling him down the block. I picked up my backpack and caught up to them._

"_Hold up, short stack," Garrett said. "What's your hurry?"_

"_I want to show you the baby birds we found yesterday! You can hear them in the tree. I found the nest all by myself!"_

"_Alright, alright. I'm coming," he told her, before turning to me and winking. "Come on, slowpoke." _

_I sped up to walk beside him. I had been just behind them, watching how excited Rosie always was around him. I knew she loved me, but he was different for some reason. I guessed because he wasn't her brother. I had to love her no matter what, even though I would have anyway. He loved her just because. _

_We stopped in front of the tree a few houses down from home. Rosie pointed up to the branch where the nest was. It was too high up for us to see, but she had listened to the babies chirping for like five minutes on the way to school. Garrett was big enough, though. He picked her up easily and swung her up to sit on his shoulders. She squealed loudly, and he shushed her so she wouldn't scare the birds._

_After a few minutes, he set her back on her feet and we headed home. I took Rosie's hand as we walked up to the porch. Garrett was already standing on his front steps._

"_I'll see you later," he called after us. "Maybe we can go to a movie this weekend. Would you like that, short stack?"_

"_Oh, yes! Please, Garrett?" Rosie begged. _

"_Sure thing. You kids be good, okay? I'll talk to your mom about it tomorrow."_

_We both waved until he was in his house before opening the front door._

_I knew it was a bad day as soon as I walked in. _

_The lights were all turned off, and my mom sat alone in the middle of the couch. She was curled up with a blanket around her shoulders, holding a glass with both hands. There was a half-empty bottle of something clear on the table in front of her, and I could hear Elvis playing on the CD player in the corner. I had tried throwing the album away, but she kept buying new ones. I couldn't understand why she still listened to it when it hurt her so much._

_Rosie squeezed my hand tightly, and I turned to look at her. She wasn't excited anymore__.__S__he was terrified. _

_I held my finger in front of my mouth, telling her to be quiet. She nodded and followed me to our bedroom. We tiptoed carefully past Mom, and she didn't seem to notice us. I helped Rosie take off her sweater and hang up her backpack, then got her settled at her little table with some crayons and a coloring book. _

"_Sweetie, you stay here and be quiet, okay?" I whispered. She nodded again, still looking scared. "Hey, don't worry, Rosie. I'm just going to get us a snack from the kitchen and then I'll be right back. Okay?"_

"_Okay, Jasper."_

"_That's my girl."_

_I shut our door carefully and tiptoed back to the kitchen, checking to make sure Mom was still on the couch. She was starting to have more bad days. At first it was just every once in awhile, but now it was once or twice a week. I wondered how much worse it would get before she realized she needed to stop. I fixed a plate with some cheese and crackers, trying to stay really quiet so she wouldn't hear me. I got two cups and, deciding the ice maker would be too loud, I went to the sink to fill them with water. I held them both against my chest with one arm so I could carry our plate with the other arm. _

_I made it all the way back to our room without disturbing Mom and balanced the plate on top of the glasses of water so I could open the door. I set our snack on Rosie's table and pulled out one of her tiny chairs to sit in. _

"_Thanks, Jasper," she whispered._

_We sat together quietly for a long time. After we finished our snack, I started my homework while Rosie colored. She was humming quietly and biting her lip, trying really hard to concentrate on her picture. _

_She looked so peaceful and happy. Our mom was in the next room being miserable, but we were okay. _

_Eventually it started getting dark outside, and I knew I needed to find something for us to eat for dinner. I told Rosie to color one more picture and I'd be right back._

_I snuck down the hallway and checked on my mom. She hadn't moved at all since we got home, but the bottle in front of her was empty now. The music was still playing on repeat in the corner, the same old songs she always cried to. She didn't look up at all when I walked past her into the kitchen. _

_I decided to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner. They were quick and easy, and that meant I could get back to Rosie faster. I was just putting them on plates with some carrot sticks and apples when I heard her call my name. _

"_Jasper, baby, is that you in there?" _

_I cringed when I heard her because her words were all jumbled together. She was definitely drunk, and I knew I was going to have to be careful._

"_Yeah, Mom?" _

_I walked closer to her, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, behind the couch. I tried to keep my voice low so it wouldn't irritate her. _

"_What are you doing in there?"_

"_I'm making dinner. Do you want a sandwich?"_

"_Why are you making dinner?"_

"_It's getting late, Mom. I was hungry."_

"_I'm supposed to make you dinner. You're not supposed to make dinner."_

"_I'm sorry, I just didn't want to bother you."_

_She was quiet for a minute, and I thought maybe she was distracted again. I snuck back to get Rosie and my sandwiches, and started to head down the hallway to our room. My mom's voice stopped me again._

"_I'd like a sandwich, baby."_

_I hesitated for a minute before going back toward her. _

"_Jasper?"_

"_Yes ma'am."_

_I went over to where she sat on the couch, putting one of the plates in her lap and the other on the coffee table. She told me to come closer, so I sat right next to her on the couch. I was so close, the alcohol on her breath made my eyes water. The ice in her drink clinked around when she handed me her empty glass to set on the table. She turned to smile at me, and she had that look… that faraway look she always got when she was gone. It was like I was looking right through her, or she was looking through me. Either way, she couldn't see me._

_I didn't know how much longer we could keep going the way we were. Sooner or later someone would find out, or Mom would get sicker. If something happened to her, Rosie and I would be alone. They would take her away from me. Mom had to get better. I watched her eat her sandwich for awhile, trying to build up the guts to ask her what I needed to._

"_Mom?"_

"_Hmmm?"_

"_I was thinking… maybe… well, maybe we need some help."_

_She dropped her sandwich to her plate and turned to face me. She wasn't happy. I tried not to back away. I couldn't show her how scared I was. I took a deep breath and kept talking._

"_Mom, I love you. But you're sick. It's been getting worse, ever since Dad –"_

"_Stop. Don't you dare talk about him. I can't… I won't… It hurts."_

_She stopped and started crying, so I moved to put my arm around her._

"_I know, Mom. It hurts me, too. It's not your fault. We all miss him so much. But you're scaring me. We can't lose you, too. I think maybe you need a doctor or something… someone who can help you feel better."_

_She stopped crying and pulled away from me, reaching out for her cigarettes on the table. My stomach dropped as I watched her put one between her lips and light it up. She had started smoking about a month ago, and Rosie and I hated it. The smoke made Rosie sick, and I kept trying to throw them away without Mom noticing. _

"_Are you telling me I'm a bad mother?" she whispered._

"_No, Mom, I love you. I'm just scared. I think maybe –"_

"_You think? I don't need to talk to anyone, I don't _need_ any help. Who the hell do you think you are, talking to your mother that way?" she yelled, and pushed me away from her. "I taught my son to speak to his mother respectfully. Who the hell do you think you are?"_

"_Mom, please calm down. Don't yell, I'm sorry. Rosie's going to hear you, I don't want to scare –"_

"_Where is Rosalie?" she demanded, and started to stand up. I was out of my seat and around to block her path down the hallway before she had even turned around. _

"_Rosie's in her room. Please don't let her see you like this," I pleaded._

"_Jasper, get out of my way!" she yelled._

"_Jasper?" Rosie called from her room. I could hear the panic in her voice._

"_Stay in your room, sweetie. Everything's just fine," I answered._

_I knew this would terrify Rosie. Mom was so angry at this point, things were going to end badly. I couldn't let her get to Rosie. She was already swaying a little on her feet, I just needed to keep her away until she passed out. I stood as straight and tall as I could, bracing myself against her. She was so tiny and weak, I was almost bigger than she was already._

"_Get out of my way, Jasper. You can't keep me from my daughter."_

"_Mom, stop. I won't let you scare her. She's happy in there, coloring with her crayons. Don't let her see you like this. You're just going to hurt her. I won't let you."_

_She took another long draw from her cigarette before she started to walk toward me slowly. I started to shake a little as I watched her. Her eyes were angry, and she looked a little insane._

"_You won't… let me?"_

"_Mom, please."_

_She tried to push past me but I blocked her, forcing her away from Rosie's door. She was weak and unsteady, but when she pulled hard on my ear with one hand, I winced. Then I felt the skin below my other ear begin to burn. I smelled smoke and ash and I heard something sizzling. When I realized what was happening, I screamed._

_She let go right away, and we both crumpled to the floor. I brought my heel down on the loose cigarette to put it out. My neck was hot and the smell in the air was making me nauseous. I heard her crying and mumbling something to herself. My name was in there somewhere, over and over, and so was my dad's._

_She started to crawl toward me and I flinched away, scooting back up against the wall. She kept coming until she was right next to me. She reached out and held my face in both her hands. Her eyes were sad and wet, but she was here, now. She could see me._

"_Jasper, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean… I didn't want… I'm so sorry I hurt you."_

_I could still smell the alcohol and the smoke and the burning. I wanted to throw up, but I swallowed it._

"_Jasper?" I heard Rosie's scared voice calling out to me._

"_I'm coming, sweetie, just a minute," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady._

_I let my mom hug me close, and then I helped her stand up and walk to her room. I pulled back her sheets and blanket for her and watched her climb into bed. When she was settled, I pulled the covers up to her chin and kissed her on the forehead._

"_Goodnight, Mom. Get some rest. You'll feel better in the morning."_

"_I love you, Jasper."_

"_I love you, too." _

_She would feel better the next day, because she wasn't going to remember any of this._

_I wiped the tears from my eyes with my fists as I walked down the hall to the bathroom. I ran some cold water on a hand towel and held it to my neck. The burning started to go away, slowly, and I pulled the towel away to look at the damage. There were two bright red stripes on my skin from where the cigarette had dragged against it, just under my jaw. The skin around them was starting to peel. I ran fresh water on the towel and winced as I put it back on the burns._

_Things were getting worse. She had never tried to get to Rosie before. Never. She usually stayed on the couch, or in her room. It was an accident. It was always an accident. She was sorry. But sorry wasn't good enough anymore. I could live with the accidents, but I couldn't live with her touching Rosie. _

_I dried off my neck carefully and put some Neosporin and a big band-aid over my burns. I walked back into the living room to turn off Elvis, pulling the CD out and snapping it in half. I picked up Rosie's sandwich and walked back down the hall toward our room. I should have stopped to make myself one since my mom ate mine, but I wasn't hungry anymore. I hesitated right outside our room with hand on the doorknob. I took a deep breath, plastered a big smile on my face, and walked through the door to Rosie._

_

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**Who's still with me? Anyone need a hug? Raise your hand if you do and I'd be happy to help you out with that. Also, just as a reference and in case you've been paying attention to the dates… this is the "bad day" Jasper refers to as the reason for the lock on Rosie's closet door. On April 30, he will be making a trip to the hardware store.**

**Endless thank yous to my betas justaskalice and staceygirl aka jackbauer. Both of them are generally happy people and yet they put up with me and my sadpants Jasper and still love me. Lucette21 is quite lovely for reading this one early and giving me her feedback.**

**Finally… In case you haven't heard, MsKathy is organizing a fundraising effort to aid the victims of the earthquake in Hiati. If you donate a minimum of $5 to any of the organizations involved and forward her your receipt, you will receive a compilation of short stories, one shots, and drabbles from over 200 participating authors. I'm contributing a silly little Jasper-centric crackfic inspired by Oscar519 and Rice Krispies treats. Please visit MsKathy's blog for details. ****http:/mskathyff****(dot)blogspot(dot)com**


	9. Selective Focus

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the **_**Twilight**_** series, but Jasper still owns me.**

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"**A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know."**

– **Diane Arbus**

The first thing I register – before I even open my eyes – is heat. I feel the sun pouring in the window, hitting the patch of skin on my back where my shirt has ridden up. The heat is more than sunlight, though; it's him. His rough hands are warm and possessive and holding me against his chest. They've moved stealthily up my spine in the darkness and are now responsible for the jumbled arrangement of my shirt. At some point in the night we shifted so that now we're stretched out on the couch, my body flush against his and my hands and cheek still resting on his chest. I feel myself rise and fall with every slow, deep breath he draws. I feel his steady heartbeat beneath my palm and the way his body is entirely relaxed beneath mine. I smile because he's no longer agitated. He's simply peaceful.

The next thing I register is sound. His chest vibrates beneath me, and a deep, guttural snore fills the room. He sounds more animal than man, and I shake with silent laughter, trying desperately not to wake him. I fail miserably, and I feel his body slowly becoming aware. His snores quiet, and his breathing and heartbeat begin to pick up. I smile and press a kiss against his chest. His fingers trace slow circles against my skin, and I feel him shift his body slightly. Despite the sun and the heat of his touch, I shiver breathily against him. I hear him chuckle in response, his movements shaking me slightly. I push myself up onto my forearms so I can see him – his bright eyes, his easy, lopsided grin, his happiness. I can't find a trace of the broken man who stumbled through my door last night.

"Don't you look like a brand new man this morning?"

"I feel like one," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky with sleep. "I don't remember the last time I slept so well."

"Me, too," I smile. "Although I hope you weren't snoring like that _all_ night. If you were, I'm surprised I slept through it, and shocked that the force of those sound waves wasn't enough to throw me to the ground. I could have been killed, or at least seriously injured."

"Ha ha," he deadpans. "It's not _that_ loud, and I probably wasn't doing it all night."

"Not _that_ loud?" I laugh. "Was this your 'charming ability' that Rosie was trying to tell me about? Your charming ability to shake down the walls of a house with the sonic boom of your snore?"

"Very funny, and yes. She'll be happy to know you've discovered my talent for yourself."

"Well I still think you're cute," I concede, kissing the tip of his chin.

"What a relief," he says, grinning.

I lay my head back down, relaxing into his arms and enjoying the feel of him around me. I don't want to ruin the peace we've found this morning, but I still have so many questions that need answers. I don't know where to begin – or how much he's ready to tell – but I need to know more. I tilt my head slightly toward him so I can judge his reaction.

"Will you tell me more about her?" I ask quietly.

"If you want me to, I will."

"I do."

He nods grimly, and I watch his throat and jaw tense and then relax. We speak in whispers and murmurs, as if the words might lose their edge if spoken softly enough. As if they'll be somehow less painful if they're less audible.

"What would you like to know?"

I pause, considering the endless list everything I want to know, before I realize that I know exactly where to start.

"When did she start drinking?"

"It's hard to say. The first time that I really recognized what she was doing, it was probably almost a year after my dad died. The anniversary of his death was the first bad day we had. But looking back, I think she probably started as soon as he was gone, maybe before then. I don't think I was old enough to see it for what it was."

I shift back to my forearms, reaching out with one hand to softly trace the lines of his face. He closes his eyes and smiles at the contact.

"What do you mean by 'bad day'?"

He takes a deep breath, furrowing his brow. I wait patiently for his answer, my fingers continuing their soothing ministrations. I count forty-seven more inhales and exhales before he speaks again.

"When I say 'bad day,' I mean the days when the drinking got out of control. They weren't all bad, especially at first. We actually had some pretty good ones here and there." He pauses for a moment, relaxing into an easy smile, as if to soak in the warmth of a pleasant memory before he continues. "When it was too much, she'd lose control. I figured out later that there was always a reason. Sometimes I said the wrong thing, or sometimes it was something she saw or heard or remembered. There was always a trigger, and I got better at preventing and avoiding them later on. Most bad days ended with her passing out on the couch or in her bed. Sometimes things were a little more complicated. Sometimes she'd…"

He trails slowly into silence, his words and their implications echoing heavily between us.

"Hurt you?" I whisper, and I can't be sure if he heard me. My words are nearly absent of sound.

After a long moment of silent tension, he nods. "Sometimes."

"And Rosie?"

At the mention of his sister, he's once again strong and determined. His jaw sets firmly as his arms grow perceptibly stiffer in their embrace.

"Only the one time. After she hit Rosie, we left."

"God, Jasper, why did you stay at all?" The words slip out before I can stop them, and I cringe as I hear the cynicism in my own voice.

"I was a kid. I was just a stupid little kid," he pleads defensively. "I thought if they took us away, we'd be separated. Rosie's my sister, and that means she's my responsibility. I couldn't let anyone take her away from me. She needed me."

"But what about _you_? Weren't you afraid of what your mom would do to you?"

"Sometimes. I tried not to think about what might happen because she was my mother, and I knew she loved us. You don't understand what she was like before he died. She was really a force to be reckoned with. She was always happy, always so alive. After he died, she crumbled. But fuck, Bella, even then she was still my mom."

He pauses, rolling his head from side to side. His hands seek skin along my back, and I lean in to kiss him gently.

"It's okay, Jasper."

"It's just… I always had this deluded hope that she'd wake up and realize she was hurting us. Sometimes she'd look at me the same way she used to, and it was like nothing had changed. When I saw her like that, it was easy to forget everything else. She could go days or weeks or even months without a bad day, and all I wanted to do was soak up whatever we could get from her before it all went to shit again."

He trails off quietly, and I wait in silence for him to continue. There aren't magic words to make this better or take the pain away. When his eyes meet mine again, he finds his voice.

"I was afraid of what would happen to her if she lost us, too," he admits weakly. "Losing my dad almost killed her."

I settle against him, hiding the tears that threaten the corners of my eyes. I picture a boy, all alone, with the weight of the world and his sister's future resting on his shoulders. I wonder how many times he stumbled, and if he ever wanted to throw it all away and just save himself. Maybe he even considered letting himself drown right alongside his mom. I don't have to wonder why he never did; I've met the living, breathing source of his strength. She wears a smile for him, because of him.

"I think you need to go talk about this with Rosie. She's not a kid anymore; she deserves to know what's going on."

"I know she does. It's just so hard. What do I do if she wants to see our mom? It goes against everything I've worked for to let that happen."

"Well, maybe you need more information first… I mean, you don't know what she wants, how she found you, or anything about what she's been doing for the last three years. I think that would scare me." My voice is calm yet tentative at first as I work through my tangled thoughts, and it gradually builds strength and certainty as I do.

"Yeah, I know you're right. At the same time, she's our mom. Our only mom. Dad's never coming back. Maybe I owe her the chance to prove she's really different now."

"I don't think you should feel obligated to her. You don't need to have anything to do with her if you're not ready for that." I pause for a moment, trying to decide how to approach this with tact. I decide to go with gentle honesty. "Right now you need to go to Rosie. Just be honest with her about how you feel about all of this. It's a big opportunity to make peace with your mom and with your past, but at the same time it's an enormous risk. You both need to be prepared for this possibly ending in disappointment. It doesn't matter that she's your mom. After what she put the two of you through, you don't owe her a thing."

He sighs deeply, cradling my face in his hands and kissing me sweetly, once on my nose and then twice on my lips.

"I love seeing you this way," he murmurs against me.

"What way?" I laugh. "Upset?"

"No, I love seeing you so full of conviction. I love that you care enough to be so… forceful."

"Of course I do. I –" I start, pausing because, again, I can't say it. "I care so deeply, about you _and_ Rosie. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"I was so worried this would all be too much for you. I've never told anyone the whole story. I thought you'd run."

"I will never run from you," I whisper, with as much assurance as I can muster. "I don't think I could do it."

"Well let's not test that theory."

"No, I'd rather not."

We're both smiling when our lips meet, slowly and deeply. My hands clench tightly into the front of his shirt before I pull away to catch my breath.

"I better go before I decide to stay," he murmurs.

"You better go before I ask you to stay."

"I just need to go spend some time with Rosie for awhile," he chuckles. "She's staying with Garrett and his wife for the weekend anyway, until we figure out what's going on. I want to make sure there's not a chance my mom will show up at the house."

"That sounds like fun, is Rosie going to give Garrett a pedicure? I love a good slumber party."

"Oh, really?" he asks with a lopsided grin.

"Yes, really." I pause, steeling myself to be bold. "How do you feel about them?"

"That depends on what's involved. If we're talking pillow fights and making out on the couch, I'm in. If you're planning on painting my toes and doing quizzes out of _Cosmo_, you're going to have to work a little harder to convince me."

"What about a scary movie and making out on the couch? Maybe some dinner?"

"Now that sounds like a slumber party I can get on board with," he laughs, leaning in to kiss me again. "I'll be back around eight."

Ten minutes later, he's gone, and I busy myself around the apartment so I don't have time to miss him. Our relationship seems to have transformed overnight. Yesterday I was trying to piece him together from the outside looking in, but today I am one of those pieces. Instead of stumbling through this darkness and uncertainty separately, Jasper has turned on the light and taken my hand. He's brought me into his world and into his trust, and I feel accepted and relieved instead of burdened by his secrets.

I can't distract myself from worrying about how he and Rosie are dealing with this new crisis. They've lived without their mother for more than four years, and I suppose it's possible that she's sober and had some time to heal. If she really is different now, maybe she deserves a chance to prove that. I hope that she's changed for them, and that there's a way for them to all find some peace together.

Despite what she's put them through, I know if I were in their position I would want the chance to have my mother back, at least to see for certain what had become of her. I realize that growing up without my mom taints my opinion. I've always wanted to have her back, but that's not even a possibility for me. The slightest twinge of envy flickers beneath my skin before I force it away permanently. I can't imagine the disappointment they'll both face if she fails them yet again.

True to his word, the man is on time. I'm just pulling enchiladas out of the oven when he arrives at my door with an assortment of horror films. I offer him a beer which he refuses, and somehow that doesn't surprise me. I hesitate before opening one for myself, almost sliding it back into the refrigerator. He eyes me curiously for a moment as if trying to work out the source of my dilemma.

"Hey, it's fine, Bella," he assures me. "I promise it doesn't bother me."

We settle into a lazy evening on the couch, working our way through two different films before he starts having to poke me to keep me awake. I giggle and swat his hands away, but I don't stop him when he stands and pulls me to my feet. He pauses for a moment, glancing around the room nervously.

I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom, stumbling a bit in my exhaustion. I leave him for a moment to change into my pajamas and wash my face. I spend a few minutes contemplating before deciding to stick with a t-shirt and my boy shorts. It's too hot to be uncomfortable in pants, especially with another warm body. I have no reason to be embarrassed or uncomfortable. It's just Jasper.

When I walk back into my room, he's standing in front of my bed in his boxers and white undershirt. His lips quirk a grin as he takes in my appearance. I can already feel the buzz of energy between us intensifying as I walk toward him slowly. When I stand before him, he reaches out to firmly grasp my hips. My sleepiness melts away at first touch.

"Bella," he chokes out. "You're not wearing any pants."

"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect," I laugh.

His eyes narrow and darken as he pulls my hips firmly against his own. My hands rest on his biceps, making note of the tension they find. He leans in slowly, tilting his head to kiss me once just below my jaw. My hands creep up his arms, and I push firmly against his chest. He never releases his hold on me, dragging me swiftly onto the bed with him. He pulls me against him, mimicking our pose from this morning. My hands rest on his chest, my knees on either side of his hips. I forget my earlier exhaustion as our hips meet. My body is a live wire, every point of contact between us electric. This situation is new for us, and I'm not sure exactly where he wants this to go. I'm anxious to find out. We're both breathing heavily, and his heartbeat beneath my hands matches the frenetic rhythm of my own. His hand reaches up to cup my cheek gently, and I relax into his touch.

"I'm starting to think that having you on top suits me."

"Don't get too excited," I tease. "This position was entirely accidental. I'd never take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state."

"Vulnerable state? I'm not the one who's buzzed at the moment."

"Maybe not, but you're intoxicated by my mere presence, and my lack of pants. I can tell."

I run my finger from just below his bottom lip down to the point of his chin, then trace along his jawbone toward his ear. He grabs my wrist playfully before I reach my destination, touching his lips to my pulse point for a moment before he speaks.

"And what if I want to be taken advantage of?" he asks, his eyes dark and intense.

"Well, that might sway my resolve just a little," I breathe.

"Might?" he questions as he slides his hand beneath my shirt, his fingernails grazing up my back softly.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he laughs.

He holds me against him with one arm as he reverses our positions. He's supporting most of his weight on one forearm, but the feel of his body against mine still sends a thrill of anticipation through me.

"Okay, so how about probably?" I whisper shakily.

"I like those odds," he confesses, leaning slowly closer.

He still has a hand on my back, under my shirt, and as his lips meet mine he trails it around to my waist and up along my ribs. Our kiss is tender and patient, with none of the desperation of last night but all of the passion. I slide my own hands down his chest and under his shirt, my fingers finding the hidden roughness which covers his back. I feel him tense at my touch and my stomach drops. Since last night, his scars have new significance and dimension. This much damage comes at a price, and I intend to wait patiently until he reveals just how much these marks have cost him. I grip the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it up and over his head.

"Wait," he groans huskily, pulling away. He leans across me to the bedside table to turn off the light. "I'm not ready for you to see me yet, Bella. Not all of me… not yet."

"That's okay," I murmur, pulling him back to me. "Just stay here with me, please. Let me touch you. I'm right here with you."

My hands return to his scars, my fingertips following along, tracing the shadows of his pain. He's still tense and uncertain above me, but I feel him gradually unwind as he grows used to the feel of my skin on his. His lips move slowly against mine while his hands continue to roam, his touch feather-light and worshipful. My legs wrap themselves around him, and I feel him against me, through cotton and flannel and nervous anticipation. His lips never leave my skin, continuing their patient exploration. The only sounds between us for a long time are breathless moans and whispers as our hips meet with frenzied purpose. I fall first, and he follows, his body collapsing into mine. Racing hearts begin to steady as we both descend.

He excuses himself for a moment, and when he returns I'm waiting to pull him beneath the covers with me. He rolls to his back, bringing me alongside him. I rest my cheek against his chest, and his arms surround me. I have never felt more secure, more at home. I can only hope he feels the same way.

"I want to see you, Jasper," I whisper. "I want to see all of you."

"I can't, Bella," he moans weakly.

"I know, not tonight. I just need you to know that I want to. I don't want you to hide from me. I don't want you to think you need to hide any part of yourself."

"I don't want you to see me like this. Not yet."

I feel the rhythm of his heart begin to pick up once more, and his breathing becomes shallow. He tenses beneath me, and I can feel him slipping away into the darkness.

"Shh, Jasper don't go," I plead. "Stay here with me."

I pull myself closer to him, leaving a lingering kiss against his jaw as my fingers roam soothingly over his chest. I feel his body gradually relax, the tension dissipating. The air around us, which was moments ago crushing us beneath its weight, lightens perceptibly. I draw a shallow, shaky breath in relief.

"Jasper?"

"I'm here, Bella," he mumbles, his voice strained and husky. "I'm right here."

His lips press against the crown of my head as we settle into our embrace. His hand sneaks its way up under my shirt and along my spine, tracing aimless circles against my skin. The rise and fall of his chest steadies and slows as his heartbeat does. The sound and feel of him beneath me soothes me, and I drift into a quick and peaceful sleep.

**–*–*–**

_**October 2, 1995 (Jasper is 8, Rosie is 2)**_

"_Jasper?"_

"_I'm right here, Mom."_

"_Will you come help me with my necklace? I can't seem to get this clasp right."_

_Mom sat at her dressing table, getting ready to go. She talked very quietly and was shaking just a little. When I came up behind her, I could see tears on her cheeks in the mirror. She looked so pretty, and I knew it was for my dad. She was wearing a new black dress because she said that was what you were supposed to wear when you were "in mourning." She told me mourning someone meant the same as missing them. We were definitely in missing. _

_She was trying really hard to be brave for him, and for Rosie and me. I heard Mom crying every night, though, after she thought I was asleep. She wasn't sleeping in her room at all. I was pretty sure it was because she missed him too much. She had been sleeping on the couch at first, and then later in the night she would come climb in bed with me. That was my favorite part of the night. She held me tight, and I didn't care if people thought I was a baby for liking it. I missed my dad. _

_I came closer and took the ends of the necklace she was trying to put on, biting my lip and squinting while I tried to hook it together. It took me a long time, but I finally got it._

"_You look really pretty, Mom."_

"_Thank you, sweetheart. You look so handsome in your new suit. Like such a little man. Your daddy would be so proud of you, Jasper. So proud." _

_She turned around and pulled me into her lap, and we sat there for a long time while she cried and we hugged each other. _

"_I miss him, Mommy," I whispered. "I wish he was coming back."_

"_I do too, baby. I wish that all the time. Sometimes I think he's waiting for me."_

"_He's not going to forget about us?" The grownups were all telling me to be happy that he was in heaven because it was such a nice and peaceful place for him. I was really worried that he'd have too much fun there and forget about me._

"_Of course he's not. We need to remember him all the time, and he'll remember us too. It's okay to miss him, Jasper. I miss him so much. Rosie's so little," she said and started crying again. "We need to make sure we help her remember him sometimes. She's so little."_

"_I know you do. I…I hear you when you miss him, at night. I hear you crying for him."_

"_You hear that?" She looked a little afraid. "This is very hard for me. I don't know what to do without him. He's always taken care of me. I just don't know what I'm going to do now."_

"_It's okay, I won't tell anyone. I just don't want you to be so sad."_

"_I'll be okay, don't worry about me. I'm sure I'll be a little less sad every day. It's just going to take me awhile. I love your daddy so much. I don't know how to imagine my life without him."_

"_I know."_

_She was quiet for a few minutes while she played with her necklace. It was her favorite necklace, and she wore it almost every day. It was shiny and silver with two sparkly rocks at the bottom._

"_You know your daddy gave me this necklace the day you were born, don't you?"_

"_No, I didn't know that. Is that why you wear it all the time?"_

"_Mhmm. It's very special to me. He gave it to me in the hospital, right after I held you for the very first time. He said you were the most special present I could have given him, and that he loved me so much. Then when your sister was born, he added this other diamond for her. He said you were both perfect, just like these pretty stones. You both made him so happy. He was so proud of you, Jasper. Don't ever forget that. He loved being a daddy, and he loved you both so much."_

_We were both crying then, except I was trying to do it quietly. I was angry that the tears were coming out when I didn't want them to, and I rubbed my eyes really hard to try and get rid of them. I was trying to be a grownup. I wanted to be big and strong for my mom and for my sister. We didn't have a dad anymore, so I was going to have to protect the family since he couldn't._

"_It's okay, baby. It's okay to cry."_

_She gave me a kiss on the forehead, and then I heard Rosie calling me from her crib. I guessed she had woken up from her nap. _

"_I'm going to go get Rosie," I sniffled._

"_Thank you, sweetheart. Her dress is laid out on your bed. Would you put it on her for me?"_

"_Sure thing, Mom."_

_She smiled at me, but it didn't really look like a smile. Then she reached out and picked up her little glass of ice water and took a sip. She made a funny face when she drank it. It was probably too cold or something._

_Rosie was excited to see me, but she was still asking about Dad. She couldn't understand that he wasn't ever coming back, and after four days, she was getting really upset that he hadn't come home yet._

"_Jasp-uh? Daddy home today?"_

"_No, sweetie. Daddy's not coming home."_

"_Why?"_

"_Daddy went to heaven, remember?"_

"_Where that?"_

"_It's up in the sky. That's where God and all the angels are. They're taking care of Daddy now."_

"_Daddy come see me?"_

"_No, sweetie. Daddy's not coming home."_

"_I want Daddy."_

"_I want him, too. Come on, let's get your pretty new dress on."_

_I helped her get dressed, letting her put her shoes on "by self" like she liked to. It was a little weird seeing her in all black. It was like it made her look unhappy just by wearing it. Her eyes were big and round and so… sad. I wondered if she'd always look that way now that he was gone, or if she'd start to forget about him like Mom said. I couldn't remember much of anything from when I was that little. I'd have to make extra sure I always reminded her about Dad. He was too special to forget._

_Once we were all ready, Mrs. Kerby came to drive us to church for the funeral. Mom was too scared to drive. Peter sat in the back seat with us, and I didn't like the way he was looking at me. He looked like he felt sorry for me. I was glad he didn't say anything, because I didn't want to hear it. He was a good enough best friend to keep quiet._

_When I thought about it later, I never remembered much about the actual service, just a bunch of random stuff._

_I held my mom's hand. She squeezed it so tightly that sometimes it hurt, but I didn't care. It hurt less than my chest. I didn't know why my chest hurt so bad. It was a weird sort of hurt, like someone was sitting on me. It was hard to breathe, and my eyes were burning because of the tears. _

_There were orange flowers everywhere. Orange was his favorite color, just like the Longhorns. I had never seen so much orange before._

_The preacher talked sort of funny. He hissed like a snake when he said words that had an "s" in them._

_My mom cried, very quietly._

_Rosie held my other hand. She sat still the whole time like a big girl, except for her feet. She swung her feet back and forth and back and forth. I watched them for a long time until they made me dizzy._

_There was an old man and an old lady sitting across the aisle. They kept looking at me funny, and I gave them my best stink eye. They left me alone after that._

_My mom had to tell me when it was over, because I didn't notice. We followed right behind the big wooden casket that some big men were carrying out to the graveyard. One of them was Mr. Kerby, and I thought I recognized another man from where Dad worked._

_Mom held my hand tighter when we were outside. She was crying loudly now, but she didn't seem to care. The old man and lady were watching us from the other side of my dad's grave._

_Mom gave me and Rosie each an orange flower to go put on top of the casket and told us to go say goodbye. Rosie kissed the wood and gave it a hug. She was smiling, and that made me cry harder. I couldn't remember what I said to him after that._

_When we came back, Mom was talking to the strange old lady. The old man was watching me, and he held up a finger like I was supposed to wait a minute. I picked Rosie up and carried her over to my mom. That stranger wasn't the boss of me._

"_I'm sorry, Mary Ella," the lady was saying. "I'm sorry we didn't make peace sooner. You have no idea how much we regret everything that happened."_

"_It's too late now. I can't fight about this anymore. I just don't have the strength. I think we need to go home."_

_She leaned down and picked up Rosie. The lady looked at Rosie like she'd never seen a baby girl before. She looked like she was about to cry._

"_Aren't you going to introduce us?" she asked._

"_Jasper, Rosie, this is Lillian and her husband William. They used to know your Daddy."_

"_It's very nice to meet you, ma'am," I said, shaking their hands like my dad taught me. I didn't like the way they were looking at me. "Sir."_

"_Mary Ella, be reasonable," Lillian begged._

"_No, I don't think I can right now. You can't just show up here after all this time and expect a relationship out of nowhere. I can't think about this right now. I thought this bridge was burned a long time ago. I need some time. Please, just give me that. You owe me that much."_

"_Of course. We can be patient," William said. "Please contact us as soon as you can."_

"_Goodbye, Rosalie. Goodbye, Jasper. It was so lovely to finally meet you both," Lillian said. _

_We went home after that. Mom seemed even more upset, but a different kind of upset. She seemed a little angry. We got home, and she got another little glass of ice water. She drank the first one really fast, and then got another one out of the freezer. No wonder it was too cold. _

_After that, she seemed better. She smiled a lot, and she pulled a chair up to the counter so Rosie and I could help her make my dad's favorite marble cake. She said he would have liked it if we had a party for him instead of being so sad. It was really fun, and after awhile I forgot that I had been crying all day._

_After Rosie and I went to sleep, I heard my mom crying in on the couch again. I climbed out of bed and snuck down the hallway to see her. She was holding her glass of water and had a blanket wrapped around her. _

"_Mommy?"_

_She took a deep breath like I had surprised her and she almost spilled her water. She wiped her eyes quickly and set her glass down on the coffee table. It was almost totally dark in the living room, so I turned on the lamp next to the couch._

"_No!" she shouted, scaring me._

"_What's the matter?"_

"_Turn it off. I don't want you to see me like this. You shouldn't see me." She sounded panicked and she was rocking back and forth a little._

"_Shhh, okay," I said, turning the light off. "There, it's off. It's okay, Mom. I turned it off."_

"_Jasper, go back to bed. I don't want you to see me like this," she cried._

"_It's okay to be sad, Mom. You don't have to pretend you're not sad for me."_

_She looked at me for a long time, and eventually she smiled._

"_Come here, baby," she whispered, holding her arms open for me. I climbed up into her lap and she held me close. She slowly calmed down and stopped crying._

"_Mom, who were those people at the funeral?"_

"_Which people?" she said, and she sounded upset again._

"_Those older people, William and Lillian. I've never seen them before. They were looking at me funny. And her name is the same as Rosie's middle name."_

"_They won't bother you anymore."_

"_But who are they? You said they used to know Dad." She took a deep breath and was quiet for a long time. I thought she was ignoring me. "Mom?"_

"_They're your grandparents," she whispered. "That was your daddy's mommy and daddy."_

_What? I sat for a long time with my mouth wide open. _

"_I thought you said they were dead, like your mommy and daddy."_

"_I lied, baby. I lied. Your daddy and his parents got in a very big fight a very long time ago, and they never forgave him for it. I haven't seen or spoken to them in more than 12 years."_

"_What do they want now?"_

"_I don't know. I don't want to know."_

_I didn't ask her any more questions after that. We sat together for awhile longer before I started falling asleep. When I woke up the next morning, we were both cuddled in my bed. I felt safe and warm, and for a minute I forgot that he was gone._

_

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**Thank you so much for reading. :) So tell me… what's your favorite scary movie?**

**Love as always to justaskalice and staceygirl aka jackbauer for being my betas, and Lucette21 for pre-reading. Their comments and criticisms make everything better. **

**I just started posting my entries for Round 2 of the Twilight 25. If you're interested, take a peek. It'll be mostly drabbles and a few one shots.  
**

**Finally, the the Indie Twific Awards are now open for nominations! Noms close January 28 at midnight EST. Please take a minute to head over and nominate your favorite indie stories at: www(dot)theindietwificawards(dot)com**


	10. Shutter Release

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the **_**Twilight**_** series, but Jasper still owns me.**

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"**Wherever there is light, one can photograph." **

– **Alfred Stieglitz**

My thumb hovers hesitantly over the send button on my phone. I've _almost_ made this phone call about thirteen different times over the last few hours, and if I don't do it soon I'm going to be late to class. I can't decide what makes me nervous about calling Charlie today. I know exactly what I need to say and I'm fairly certain I know how he'll respond. There's still something irrationally intimidating about admitting the seriousness of my relationship with Jasper to my dad. Somehow this phone call makes everything officially serious, as if before it wasn't really.

I finally roll my eyes at my own inaction and quickly press send. I hear the line ring once, twice, three times, and I'm about to hang up when Charlie finally answers.

"_Bella?"_

"Hey, Daddy."

"_Hey, honey. How's it going?_

"Good, I'm just getting ready to head to class, actually. What about you?"

"_Same old same old. I'm just sitting at my desk, listening to Deputy Black complain about colic,"_ he chuckles, and I hear Billy protesting in the background.

We make small talk for several minutes, and I begin to run out of distractions. The line goes quiet for a few awkward minutes. I have no idea how to start.

"_So, tell me something, Bella."_

"Tell you what?"

"_Well, you don't seem like you were calling just to chat about baby Jake and your BCS bowl picks. So why don't you tell me what's really on your mind?"_

"Well, alright. You're still coming for Thanksgiving, aren't you?"

"_Of course I am. I have the whole week off. I'll probably head down there sometime on Sunday. We'll have all week to hang out together. I thought maybe we could see a movie or two, and I'll take you grocery shopping for turkey stuff."_

"Well… we're actually not going to have dinner at my place."

"_Where are we having dinner?"_ he asks, and I can hear the hesitation in his voice.

"At Jasper's house."

The line goes silent for a few moments save for the sounds of his steady breathing and my own pulse thundering in my ears. I hold my breath, as if the gesture might give him more space to think. I hear him cover the speaker with his hand and mumble an excuse to Billy about needing some privacy. I wait patiently for him to break the silence.

"_So… I guess this is pretty serious now, isn't it?"_

"Yes, Daddy, it's very serious. I – I care about him a lot. He wants to meet you, so when I mentioned that you were coming for Thanksgiving, he invited us over to his house so that it wouldn't just be the two of us at my apartment."

"_His house where he lives with his sister?"_

"Yes. She's sixteen and he has legal custody of her. Their mom was an abusive alcoholic and they've been on their own since he turned eighteen after they had to go to foster care for awhile but he takes really good care of her and –"

"_Whoa, there, Bella. Take a breath or you're going to pass out,"_ he chuckles nervously. _"I don't need his whole life story in the span of this conversation. I think I'd like to get to know this boy for myself. It sounds like he's got quite a story to tell."_

"Yes, he does," I admit quietly. "He has a lot of bad memories haunting him, and he's only just starting to tell me about them. I'm a little scared for him sometimes. It's just so hard to imagine that he's gone through so much trauma in his life. I want to help him."

"_Of course you do, honey. Just promise me you'll be careful with him, please? Love isn't always enough to save someone, and I don't want you to get so caught up in this that you get hurt,"_ he says, his voice showing the slightest hint of strain. _"He treats you right, doesn't he? This isn't like –"_

"He won't hurt me. This is very different… he's very different. I promise I'll be careful, though."

The line goes quiet again, except for a faint rustling. I can almost see him scrubbing his stubbly jaw as he processes all of this. I can picture the deep crease between his brows and the way his mustache twitches when he chews on his lip. He lets out a satisfied huff and I smile.

"_Well alright, Bella,"_ he begins slowly. His voice becomes gruffer as he goes on, and his words are laced with a careful warning. _ "I trust your judgment. If you say he's a respectful young man, then I expect to meet a very respectful young man when I get there."_

"You will," I promise.

"_And you're sure you don't want me to run a background check?"_ he jokes, his tone considerably lighter. _"It would only take me a second or two. I've got the database right here on my screen. Just a few keystrokes…"_

"Thanks, _Chief_," I say with sarcasm. "I don't think that will be necessary at this time, but your enthusiasm and attention to detail are duly noted and much appreciated."

"_Just taking care of my baby,"_ he laughs.

"I love you for that."

"_I love you, too. Listen, I better get back to work. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"_

"Sure thing, Daddy. Be careful."

"_I will be. You might mention to your young man that I will be armed when I get down there."_

"Dad…"

"_Just a suggestion."_

"Goodbye, Charlie."

"_Bye, honey."_

I'm still smiling when I hang up the phone. I lean back into the couch, relieved that the weight of this conversation has been lifted. He knows things with Jasper are serious. He knows I've only been semi-serious about one other boy, and what I had with him was nothing like this. Most importantly, he knows how much this meeting is going to mean for all of us. I don't allow myself to be nervous. It's not quite three weeks away, and Jasper will be nervous enough for both of us. My dad loves me, and he's going to love Jasper. He has to.

I finally notice the time, and I have to race to make it to class on time. My heart to heart with my dad took a little longer than I anticipated, and I don't want to miss our lecture. I slide into my seat just as Mr. Berty begins to speak. I shoot a quick glance at Jasper, and he's smiling back at me peacefully. I take his hand in mine, softly running my fingers over his scars. The gesture means more to me now than it did four days ago. Four days ago the air between us was chilled with his anxiety, and I had no idea what these scars stood for. I notice he doesn't tense perceptibly when I touch the marks on his hand anymore. I hope in time I can touch the rest of them without causing him pain.

"So what you're going to end up with when you use the false moonlight technique is a very dark, very underexposed image which is tinted a deep blue. It looks like it was taken at night, though, doesn't it?" says Mr. Berty, and the class murmurs its assent. The examples in his slideshow honestly do look like they were taken at night. They have a cold, eerie glow about them, despite the darkness. "Don't be afraid to play around with your settings. The numbers I've given you are just starting points. The beauty of digital is that you should be able to judge your progress pretty well using the preview and histograms on the back of your cameras. Make sure you seek out the optimal conditions or this won't work. You need the right lighting, the right contrast ratio, and the right subject, or you'll end up with a very dark photo that looks like someone spilled food coloring on it. "

The class laughs at the series of bad examples he shows before he quiets everyone down to continue.

"Okay, okay. Now for part two which will be the most fun. We're all going to be checking out medium format cameras today because this next method doesn't work with digital. Tonight is going to be a full moon, folks, without a cloud in the sky. I want you to seek out your favorite landscape in the area, preferably one which has something that moves in it: water, grass, trees, or something similar. It doesn't matter how close up you are, we just need to see movement. Once you set up your shot, follow the instructions on the paper I'm passing around."

He moves slowly through the room, and I study the instructions he lays before me. Nighttime photography is one of my favorite adventures, but I've never attempted anything like this.

"There will be no light in your photo other than reflected moonlight. You will _not _include the moon in your frame, and your shutter will remain open for an entire half-hour. With digital, even today, you'd be picking up noise at any ISO in that amount of time. With film, it's going to be beautiful. The shutter is open long enough to pick up the slightest movements. Water becomes velvety and luxurious, and leaves in trees become whispers of motion. Some of my favorite shots in my own portfolio have come from nights like tonight. So if you'll all follow me to the equipment checkout, we'll get everyone ready to go."

Jasper and I shuffle to the back of the line, and I relax comfortably into his side as his hand toys casually with the hem of my shirt.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" he asks. "I mean, before the moonlight pictures."

"I don't have plans, do you?"

"It's Monday night," he says, grinning, as if I'm supposed to know what that means. "Dollar bowling? The Dart Bowl? Garrett and his wife always take us. It's sort of a tradition."

"I've never been," I admit.

"Well, you know there's a first time for everything. Would you like to come with us? Kate and Garrett have been bugging me about meeting you. Kate has a case to work on tonight, but Garrett's going to pick up Rosie and meet me after class."

"I'd love to, if you're sure I'm not intruding."

"Nonsense. You're never intruding, Bella."

He leans in to leave a kiss on the side of my neck, lingering for just a moment until Mr. Berty clears his throat behind us. Jasper chuckles and tries to back away, but I don't allow him to go too far. We wait patiently for our equipment before heading out together.

We pick up sandwiches for everyone for dinner on our way to the alley, because apparently dollar bowling doesn't open until nine and we have to sit in line until then. We spread out across four chairs to hold as much space as we dare in the building crowd. I sit sideways, bringing my feet to rest in the chair next to Jasper. He lifts my feet and scoots underneath them, putting the sandwiches in his old seat.

"You're lucky my feet don't stink," I laugh.

"Who said they don't?" he teases, tickling my ankle.

"If you value your manhood you'll stop tickling me immediately," I gasp breathlessly, squirming so badly that I almost fall out of my seat. He doesn't listen.

"Oh, ticklish, are we?" he laughs, squeezing my thigh just above my knee.

This time I shriek as my body jerks, and I land with a dull thud on the ground next to my seat. I'm still laughing breathlessly when Jasper kneels over me.

"Bella, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? I'm so sorry." He's laughing as hard as I am, but desperately trying to hide it.

"I should kick you for that," I threaten, "but lucky for you my ass padded my landing."

He's leaning over me, one knee in between mine and his arms on either side of me. The air which was light with teasing and laughter is suddenly thick with tense energy. His eyes flicker down to my lips, and I feel a shiver of goosebumps erupt over my skin.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" booms a voice I don't recognize. Jasper cringes and squeezes his eyes shut. "Are you trying to take advantage of your girl in the bowling alley, kid? You know there are children in the vicinity. Come here, Rosie, hide your eyes."

Jasper jumps up so fast that all I see is a blur of nervous boy.

"I was not… she just… and I was… and she…" he stutters. He finally composes himself enough to look angry and punch the man in the arm. "Don't call me 'kid,' jackass."

"Charming language, as always. Not very impressive to the ladies, _kid_."

Suddenly I'm looking up at a ruggedly handsome man who's reaching his hand down to help me up. I'm momentarily frozen as I take in his imposing form. He's a little taller than Jasper with a lean, muscular build and strong shoulders. His navy blue t-shirt clings just right and sets off his dirty blond hair and piercing blue-green eyes perfectly. I realize I'm gaping at him and I shut my mouth immediately. I hear giggling and notice Rosie standing just behind him.

"Is she always this easily spooked, or is it just my dashing good looks?"

"Shut up, Garrett," Jasper mutters.

Garrett turns back to me, offering his hand again, and this time I'm ready. I smile shyly as I let him pull me to my feet.

"So, you must be the 'Bella' I've heard so much about," Garrett says, smirking.

"That would be me. You must be the 'Garrett' who enjoys teasing my boyfriend relentlessly," I counter. "I think I like you already."

"I think the feeling's mutual," he chuckles, arching an eyebrow in Jasper's direction. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise," I say.

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it gently before Jasper puts his arm possessively around my shoulders.

"Stand down, kiddo. Just being chivalrous."

"I think I see where Jasper learned his manners," I tease, poking Jasper playfully in his ribs.

"Oh, I taught this kid everything he knows," Garrett says, winking conspiratorially.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," interrupts Rosie. "Are you two ladies going to bowl or are you just going to watch me and Bella have all the fun?"

Jasper tenses for a moment, his arm tightening considerably around my shoulders. His eyes fill with nothingness, and his mouth hangs slightly open. I wrap one arm securely around his waist and bring my other hand up to his chest.

"Jasper?" I ask quietly. "Jasper, are you coming? It's our turn to grab a lane."

He snaps out of it quickly and turns to offer me a lopsided smile.

"Sure thing, let's go."

We spend hours laughing and teasing and bowling together. I watch the way Garrett interacts with Rosie and Jasper. It's obvious that he's comfortable with them; he treats them with an effortless sort of affection. Rosie clearly adores him as much as she does her brother. She holds her own in the conversation, and it's immediately clear where she picked up her sharp banter. Jasper seems entirely relaxed in Garrett's presence, and they push each other as I imagine brothers would. For someone entirely unrelated by blood, I see so much of Garrett in Jasper and his sister. I wonder how much time they've spent together over the years and what they've all been through. I wonder if their bond formed out of opportunity or necessity, and I feel suddenly lighter knowing that they had Garrett in their lives. Without a father and practically without a mother, they seem to have attached themselves to this charmingly chivalrous man, and he seems to have attached himself to them in return.

Around eleven, we all say our goodbyes. Garrett agrees to take Rosie home, so Jasper and I head down to Bull Creek together to take our moonlight pictures. We pull up to the area around the dog park where the creek cuts through the rocky terrain and runs over the road. Jasper sets up the camera such that the water and jagged boulders are in frame, as well as the trees along the greenbelt surrounding us. The moonlight reflects on the water beautifully, and the wind breezes delicately around us, swirling my hair and the greenery and making ripples over the water. I know the beauty of the pictures will surpass even the perfection I see before me.

I adjust the camera settings and take my time focusing, which is much harder in the darkness. Once everything is ready, I load the film plates and let Jasper pull the shutter release. He sets his watch for thirty minutes, and we climb onto a nearby rock to watch and wait.

I sit with my back against Jasper's chest, his strong legs on either side of me and his arms wrapped gently around my waist. His chin rests on my shoulder, his cheek against mine, and I can feel his chest move in slow, relaxed breaths. His fingers move lazily against the skin of my stomach, and my entire body is soothed by his proximity.

"How long has Garrett been around?" I whisper.

Jasper pauses for a moment, but he doesn't tense up, so I know he'll answer when he's ready to. I wait patiently, trailing my fingernails softly up and down his arms.

"He moved in next door about a year after my dad died, right when things were starting to go downhill."

"Did he… _know_?" I ask hesitantly. I can't imagine that the Garrett I met this evening knew and did nothing.

"Not for a long time. I was good at lying and covering things up, and he was busy with law school a lot of the time. He knew things were messed up, but he didn't know about the abuse until a couple weeks before it happened to Rosie."

"And he's helped you all this time?"

"He used to babysit back before my mom decided I was old enough. Even after that, he always made us feel loved. He'd take us to movies when he could, and we played basketball together a lot. Rosie adored him, and I tried to be like him. He always came over for holidays like Thanksgiving, especially after… well… he just always did. He stood up for me when I needed him the most. He was the closest thing to family we had. He still is."

"You didn't have any other family? Wasn't there anyone you could have gone to for help? Grandparents?"

"My mom's parents both died when she and my dad were in school. Her dad had been drinking and they got in an accident. The people in the other car were killed as well. Sort of ironic, in the end," he chuckles humorlessly. "My dad was killed by a drunk driver, too."

"Your dad wasn't…" I begin, though I know the answer before the question is out of my mouth.

"No, he was stone cold sober. He was rushing home from work to make it in time for dinner. He'd been at a late meeting, and my mom kept us up past bedtime to wait for him. We had a whole picnic set up on the kitchen floor. They said he was pulling into his exit lane on Mopac when a drunk pulled into the same lane going the wrong way. He died on impact, and so did the other driver."

"God, Jasper, I'm so sorry," I say, and I am. I don't know how to tell him in as many ways as he should be told, and I don't know how to make his pain go away. All I know is that I need him, and he needs me, and I'm not going anywhere.

His arms tighten around me, and I feel him inhale deeply.

"It's okay, Bella. He was a good man and an even better father. Life isn't fair sometimes, but you move on."

"What about his family?"

"I only met them once, at the funeral. He was an only child from an extremely wealthy family… old oil money. They didn't approve of my mom and they were furious when he eloped with her. He was only 22, and she was 20. I guess they thought she was too young and flighty, and only after his inheritance. They told my dad he had to choose between her and the money. He picked her and never looked back, and they never forgave him for it."

"They've never tried to make contact with you?"

"Not really. They set up a trust in each of our names after the funeral for when we turned eighteen. It just sits there, mostly. I've used some of it when I've been really desperate, but it's blood money. It's tainted."

"Have _you_ ever tried to make contact with _them_?" I ask timidly.

"No. Never."

Just like that, I know the conversation is over for now. He's revealed another piece of the puzzle and a whole new dimension to consider. I wonder how parents can disown their only child for finding the love of his life. I wonder how Jasper's mom dealt with that rejection, and if she had a hand in keeping them away all these years. I wonder if – had they known – his grandparents would have taken Rosie and him away to a better life. His life is full of convoluted highs and lows, and I can't help but want to know more.

Always more.

**–*–*–**

_**July 18, 2005 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 12)**_

_I stood with my hands on the edge of the sink, leaning over and watching the water slowly swirl down the drain. My stomach was rumbling loudly and painfully. I hadn't been able to keep down any breakfast, and I'd hardly slept all night. I leaned in lower, using my hands to splash some cool water on my face. I dried my face and turned off the water, looking up into the mirror. _

_I looked scared. I couldn't remember the last time I had been so nervous. It showed in my face, and I knew I had to suck it up and be a man or nothing was going to go my way that day._

_I needed everything to go my way, or I'd lose it all._

_I straightened my tie and rolled my sleeves back down, buttoning them carefully and then shrugging into my jacket. I buttoned both buttons, reconsidered, and unbuttoned the bottom one. I didn't want to look too uptight._

_I took one last long look at myself, squared my shoulders, and stood as tall as I could. I could do this. I could be a man. I had to._

_For Rosie._

_I turned and stalked out of the bathroom with new confidence. _

_I found Kate sitting on the bench outside the courtroom and went to sit next to her. She didn't look as nervous as I felt, and hopefully neither did I._

"_How are you holding up, kiddo?" she asked, smiling reassuringly._

"_I'm okay. I'm a little nervous, but I think I'll be okay. I just want to get this over with."_

"_Don't worry about it. You'll be just fine. Just be honest and answer all the judge's questions calmly. You've done everything right, Jasper. Just tell your story, and he's going to let you keep Rosie with you."_

"_You really think so?"_

"_I really do think so," she said. She squeezed my hand gently, and I tried to smile back without looking anxious. Kate was the social worker the state hooked me up with after CPS took Rosie and me away from our mom. Kate had helped me navigate all my options and all the paperwork, and I felt confident with her in my corner. She thought I deserved custody of Rosie, and she was doing everything she could to make sure that happened. I wasn't used to having so many people on my side._

"_Now remember to keep eye contact when you're talking to him. It'll help him see how confident and truthful you are. If your eyes get shifty it makes you seem like you're uncomfortable or maybe lying. And don't fidget a lot either. Just sit still and tall, and –"_

"_I've got it, Kate. I know. Don't worry, I'm ready."_

"_I know you are," she said, smiling and ruffling a hand through my hair. I swatted it away, trying to look irritated. It really didn't bother me so much. "You're going to be great in there. The judge is going to love you."_

"_I hope so. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't listen."_

"_Don't think about that. Plus, your lawyer talked to Garrett, and he thinks that with –"_

"_I told you I don't want to talk about Garrett, Kate."_

"_I know, but I think you should listen. Garrett's –"_

"_Here?"_

_My head shot up and I saw him standing several feet in front of us. I was almost happy to see him, before I remembered that I was supposed to be mad at him. He looked very unsure of himself, and Garrett never looked unsure of himself._

"_What the fuck are you doing here?" I spat._

"_I'm just here to support you, kid. I want to be here for you."_

"_Don't call me 'kid,' and I told you not to come. I told you to stay the fuck away from me. This is all your fault."_

_I saw his face fall at my tone, and I knew I was hurting him. I knew I shouldn't want to. I knew I should hate my mom and not him, because this had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her. I knew I should hate myself for my mistakes that day. It was just so much easier to hate him for them._

"_Jasper, please," he begged. "Just let me help you. That's all I've ever wanted to do. You and Rosie."_

"_You lied to me," I said darkly. "I don't have anything else to say to you. You just get the fuck –"_

"_Jasper, that's enough," Kate interrupted. "Watch your language and quit acting like such a juvenile. Do you want the judge to see you this way? Garrett is here to help, so show a little respect. If you can't act like an adult then I don't know what we're even doing here."_

_She spoke calmly and diplomatically, but her words may as well have been beaten into me for all the damage they did. She was right. I was here to show the judge that I was a responsible adult, capable of caring for and supporting my baby sister by myself. I was acting like an angry kid. My shoulders slumped and I relaxed. I hadn't realized how tense I had gotten._

"_I'm sorry, Garrett. Of course you can be here. I'm just not ready to go back to the way things were. I need some time."_

"_Okay, whatever you need. I was only trying to help."_

"_I know you were. I'm glad you were looking out for us. The timing just sucked."_

_Just then the door opened and the bailiff came out to let us in. Kate and I went and sat at my table at the front of the room and Garrett found a seat in the first row behind us. The courtroom was tiny and suffocating, nothing like I had pictured it based on all the courtroom television shows I'd seen. It didn't matter how big or small the room was, I was still intimidated._

_Mr. Jenks, my lawyer, came in and took Kate's seat next to me while she went back to sit with Garrett. He patted me on the back with as little awkwardness as he could. He wasn't really the touchy feely type, but he was a good lawyer. Garrett had found him through some of his lawyer buddies, and he had a really good track record with cases like mine. _

_Mr. Jenks thought that was my best chance was having a judge award guardianship in a small hearing like this one. Since I was a relative, I could have won custody from the state as a foster parent, but it would have been risky because of my age. I didn't just want to be her foster parent, anyway. I wanted something permanent and official. I didn't want my mom to be able to come back and take her from me. I just needed to convince this one man that I was good enough. _

"_All rise for the Honorable Judge Stephen Marcus," the bailiff announced._

_We all rose to our feet, and I watched the judge walk in the room. He was old, but not elderly, and he looked friendly. He eyed me as he sat down, and I stood as tall as I could and steeled myself to be calm and confident. _

_The questions started off easily enough. He talked to Kate about her observations as our social worker. He asked me a few questions about the situation with my mom, but with all the documentation and restraining orders in place, he was really more concerned with me and how I was going to take care of Rosalie. He wanted to know about my job and my living arrangements, and everything else Kate had helped me get ready. For the most part he was stoic, but he seemed impressed with the work I had put into researching schools for Rosie and making sure we were close enough to the bus route. _

"_So, Mr. Whitlock, I show here that you work at the Austin Public Library in Tarrytown, underneath the supervision of a Mrs. Kerby?"_

"_Yes, sir, that's right."_

"_And how many hours do you work a week?"_

"_Usually twenty-five to thirty, sir. I'm up to forty now that I'm out of school for the summer, but when I start college in the fall I'll have to cut back down."_

"_With your wages, is that going to be enough to cover living expenses for both you and your sister?"_

"_Yes, sir, I believe so. Miss Denali helped me draw up a monthly budget based on our expenses and my income and savings. I won a scholarship for my tuition, so I won't be paying for school. It's going to be tight, but I think Rosie and I will be able to manage if we're careful."_

"_And in the case of emergency?"_

"_I – I have access to a trust fund starting tomorrow, sir, my eighteenth birthday. There's enough money in there to cover anything we would need if I chose to use it. I don't plan to, though, sir. I don't want to rely on money I haven't earned."_

"_That's very admirable, young man. I just have a few more questions for your friend behind you. Mr. Adams?"_

_Garrett stood behind me and then made his way forward until he was standing by my side. What was going on?_

"_Garrett Adams, Your Honor."_

"_Mr. Adams, you are here on behalf of Jasper Whitlock?"_

"_Yes, Your Honor."_

"_Can you tell me a little about your relationship with Mr. Whitlock?"_

"_I moved in next door to the Whitlocks about eight years ago. I've watched Jasper and his sister grow up. I've helped care for them and been a friend and confidante to Jasper. I think of him as my little brother."_

_Garrett winked at me, and when I looked back at Kate she was smiling smugly. She knew this was going to happen, and she didn't tell me. Well, I didn't let her tell me. Suddenly I felt even worse for the things I had said to him and the way I'd treated him over the last six weeks. I had been so unfair. He was always trying to help. I had pushed him away when I needed to for eight years, in order to keep the secret. I'd let him be my friend when I wanted him to be, but when things were too complicated I put the walls of lies back up. All he'd ever wanted was to be there for us._

"_You were present for the incident on June the third, 2005?"_

_I swallowed thickly. June 3, 2005 was one day I would never forget. Rosie. Bruises. CPS. Anger. Screaming. Tears. Broken bottles. Punches. Lies. _

_Failure. _

"_Yes, Your Honor. I stand by the actions I took that day. If I had it all to do over, I wouldn't change a thing," Garrett said. I could see the resolve in his features. He knew he'd done the right thing, and someday I was going to have to admit that he had, too._

_Judge Marcus nodded, studying his papers and rubbing his jaw thoughtfully._

"_You were also present for the incident noted on November the twenty-fifth, 2004?"_

"_Yes, sir, I was. I stayed with Jasper and Rosalie for a week after that day, until things got back to normal."_

_I cringed at the memory. It was the worst Thanksgiving of my life, and I hoped one day I'd be able to enjoy the holiday without thinking about it. I also hoped Rosie never found out the truth about what happened._

"_Can you tell me why you'd like to vouch for Mr. Whitlock in this custody hearing?"_

"_Your Honor, I met Jasper when he was nine years old. I saw immediately that he was different than most kids his age. He was an old soul, and he carried a weight on his shoulders that I didn't understand and had never seen in a kid. Every day that I've known him, his life has been about his little sister. Whether in an official capacity or not, he's dedicated every minute of every day to making sure she's safe and happy. He's suffered more than I ever realized in the process, and knowing what I do now, I admire him all the more. He's been strong for her when most kids or even adults would have given up. He's sacrificed his own well-being for hers. He's loved her unconditionally and done everything in his power to make a normal life for her in the conditions they were raised in. In my opinion, he's a better parent to her than most people are to their own children. I've never seen someone so dedicated. He doesn't know how to fail her, and he will never let her down."_

_I could hardly hear his words over my pulse pounding in my ears. I took deep, calming breaths, trying to be a man and keep it together. Garrett was here, for me. After all the angry words I'd said and all the times I'd lied or pushed him away, he was still by my side. He was telling the judge exactly why he thought I should have custody of my sister, and he was telling me exactly what he thought of me. He was validating my reason for living, my reason for everything. For a minute, I thought it was my dad standing next to me instead of Garrett. _

"_And you're prepared to assist Mr. Whitlock in any way that you can? If he needs help, advice, or anything else, you're willing to be his support system?" _

"_I am, Your Honor. I'm prepared to do everything in my power to ensure that Jasper and Rosalie Whitlock have a happy, healthy, and safe home together. Whatever they need, I'm here to take care of it, for as long as they'll have me."_

"_Very well, I'm going to take this under advisement. Thank you, Mr. Adams. You may be seated."_

"_Thank you, sir."_

_The judge excused himself to his chambers to deliberate, and I settled in for the longest wait of my life. We were told to come back at four that afternoon to hear the judge's ruling, but I refused to leave the courthouse. Kate and Garrett sat with me all day to keep me company. They tried to make conversation, but they may as well have been talking to a brick wall. They tried to get me to eat lunch, but I insisted I wasn't hungry. I couldn't do anything but think about the way my life was about to change. Good or bad, nothing would ever be the same. The judge had the power to give me everything I'd been hoping and planning for the past four years of my life. He also had the power to take it all away. After what seemed like years, the bailiff finally led us back in. _

"_All rise for the Honorable Judge Stephen Marcus."_

_The judge was quiet for a few minutes. He shuffled through his notes, adjusting his glasses and studying everything carefully. I drummed my fingers on the table top, unable to shake the nervous energy. He finally looked up at me and removed his glasses. I stilled my hands immediately and sat up a little straighter, trying to look confident. I couldn't judge the meaning behind his solemn expression._

"_Jasper, you are an impressive young man. You've thought very carefully about everything you and your sister will need. You've made very mature decisions and plans regarding both of your futures. The way you care for her and love her is quite touching. It's unusual for a young man such as yourself to be in a position to care for a younger sibling. As you know, your sister met with me yesterday, and I am convinced that it is both her wish and in her best interests to remain in your care. Considering all these factors, and the support system you have in your friend Mr. Adams, I'm very pleased to award you full custody and guardianship of your sister, Rosalie Lillian Whitlock."_

_I smiled a smile so big I didn't think it had been used in the ten years since my dad had died. _

"_You… you mean, I can take her home? She's going home with me?"_

"_That's exactly what I mean, Jasper," he assured me, smiling widely. "You can come by the courtroom tomorrow morning and sign all the paperwork. I'm going to recommend that Miss Denali makes regular visits in order to monitor your situation for the time being, but your sister will officially be under your guardianship until she turns eighteen. She's very lucky to have you, young man."_

"_Thank you, sir, thank you so much."_

"_You're very welcome."_

_The next thing I knew, we were standing out in the hallway. Garrett had me in a bone crushing hug and was clapping me on the back. I shook Mr. Jenks' hand and thanked him for his hard work. Kate took her turn at a hug, and I noticed she was crying softly. Hell, Kate even hugged Garrett. He lifted her off the ground and swung her in a circle. I'd never seen him so happy._

"_Alright, kiddo, this calls for a celebration. We're going to pick up Rosie and we're all going out to dinner and bowling. You're coming, aren't you, Katie?"_

"_Sure, if you guys want me to. I don't want to intrude," she said. If I didn't know any better I'd have said she was nervous. I'd never seen Kate nervous._

"_Nonsense, you're coming with us," he laughed. "Alright, Jasper, we've got six weeks of lost time to make up for and I don't know about you, but I'm so hungry right now I could eat a bear. Let's get out of here."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_What do you mean, yeah? This is the happiest day I can remember in a long time, and we're going to make a night of it. I talked to Rosie's foster mom this morning, and it's all set. Now are you ladies coming or what? Let's go get your girl."_

_I laughed, long and loud, and gave him another hug. Fuck it if it made me look like a woman. Tomorrow I would be an adult, and Rosalie would finally – officially – be my responsibility. We were safe, and no one was going to be able to take her from me ever again. _

_We were finally free._

_

* * *

_

**So what did you think about Garrett?**

**Thank you so much for reading! I put a few examples of the moonlight pictures on my livejournal if you're curious. :) daisy3853 (dot) livejournal (dot) com**

**Thanks as always to justaskalice and staceygirl aka jackbauer for their beta skills and support. Special thank yous to Lucette21 for pre-reading and giving Garrett her stamp of approval, and to Legna989 for her legal expertise.**

**The final list of nominations for the Indies is up! There are some fantastic stories in there. Please to be reading now, and be ready to vote starting on February 20****th****!**

**www (dot) theindietwificawards (dot) com/ValidatedStoriesByCategories (dot) aspx**


	11. Double Exposure part 1

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the **_**Twilight**_** series, but Jasper still owns me.**

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"**Faith in your photographic abilities is the willingness to venture into darkness without a flash." **

**– Cliff Hollenbeck**

I feel him as he enters the darkroom. The quiet shuffling of his boots rises above the sound of trickling water in the wash station, filling my ears in the otherwise silent room. His approach heightens my senses as always. As he gets closer, my heart beats faster, and a familiar surge of energy tickles my spine. I smile because my reaction is constant as ever. Every nerve, every inch of my skin is restless as I wait for him: his nearness, his voice, his touch.

His hands slide comfortably around my waist, pulling me to him until his chest presses into my back and his chin rests on my shoulder. My smile widens when he tilts his head to touch his lips to my neck, and I tilt mine in response.

"Well hello to you, too," I laugh.

"Just giving my girl a proper greeting," he murmurs.

"You better take advantage while you can," I tease. "If you greet me this way in front of my dad, we might have a problem."

"What would he think about this?" he asks as he trails a single finger tantalizingly up my ribs and around the curve of my breast. I inhale sharply and feel him holding in his laughter behind me. "I think he might like that as much as you do."

"Um, I think not."

"How about this?"

He uses the same finger to guide my chin, turning my face toward his. He leaves three tender kisses along my jaw before his lips find mine. They move together with slow purpose; there is no rush or desperation, but my body responds to the ever-present intensity nonetheless. My stomach leaps when his free hand edges up beneath my shirt. Our kiss deepens, leaving me breathless and lightheaded. He pulls away leisurely, and I can feel the smirk on his lips before we part.

"If you kiss me like that in front of Charlie, I'm going to kill you," I mutter breathlessly, trying to sound stern. I elbow him in the ribs to emphasize my threat. "That's before he takes you out back and shoots you. You know, he told me to let you know that he'll be armed while he's down here."

He has the sense to look slightly alarmed before shaking it off.

"Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior," he promises, smiling.

He backs away slowly, returning to his station. I miss his touch and the feel of his arms around me, but we need to focus on the assignment we have to print.

For the last week we've been experimenting with double exposures. Mr. Berty had us underexpose an entire roll of film, rewind to the beginning, and shoot through once more. Images layer over each other, different parts of each scene merging with the other. The results are varied and sometimes unsuccessful, but with the right pairing, you end up with something unique and almost ethereal. I opted to shoot landscapes on the first set of exposures and people on the second. My subjects are slightly transparent, seemingly ghosting through the scenes they've been transposed to.

We move easily around each other, weaving in and out between the different stations with practiced comfort. We work in quiet tandem, helping without needing instruction and moving before it's required. I wonder briefly when we reached the point where awkward missteps and mumbled apologies became an effortless choreography. We both slide prints into the developer, standing across from each other and exchanging heated glances. As we progress down the row of chemicals, Jasper's face tightens, and his brow furrows. His voice eventually breaks the silence.

"So… your dad," he says, and I try to keep a straight face despite his obvious discomfort.

"What about him?"

"I just – I want to make a good first impression. I've never done the dad thing, you know? I don't know what to do to make him like me."

"I don't think you need to worry about _making_ him like you. He loves me and he's going to love you, too. He seems to be excited about getting to know you. You're very charismatic, you know. Just relax."

"I think I need a strategy," he argues, seriously. "What does he like to talk about? What should I avoid? I don't want to go into this blindly."

"He likes football, food, and history, just like you. He adores his daughter and his job. He demands respect, always. Just remember that and you'll be fine."

"What if it's too much for him?" he mutters. "You guys are really close, and I come with a lot of baggage. I'm sure that's not – I'm not – what he had in mind for you."

I suddenly recognize the depth of his concern. This isn't just basic "meet the over-protective father" nervousness. This goes to the root of his insecurity and hesitation, and back to the boy who never felt he was good enough to be really loved. I walk slowly around the edge of the counter until I'm standing beside him. He turns to face me, and I reach up to hold his face in my hands. When his eyes finally meet mine, I speak.

"Listen to me. My dad is a stubborn, over-protective, old-fashioned man. The love of his life was a free-spirit who turned his world upside down. I don't think he has any preconceived notions about what kind of person is right for another anymore. He wants me to be happy, and you make me happy."

His face gradually relaxes as creases of worry melt into laugh lines surrounding his grin.

"I make you happy?"

"Yes, you make me very happy. That's all that matters to me, and that's all that should matter to my dad."

"You make me happy, too," he admits, and his expression leaves nothing to doubt. In this moment, he looks entirely content.

"Then I guess we're even. Now let's pack up and go. We need to pick up Rosalie on our way, and he'll be at my apartment in a couple hours."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles, leaning in to kiss me quickly.

The ride to his house is quiet aside from the constant drumming of his fingers on the steering wheel. My hand reaches out to rub his thigh gently, and his nervous movements gradually cease. He takes my hand in his and pulls it to his lips for a kiss. I almost make a joke about him learning chivalry from Garrett so I can watch him squirm, but I only smile instead.

We pull up in front of his house, and he honks for Rosie to come out. She looks excited as she makes her way to the car, offering a cheerful greeting and hug when I jump out to let her slide into the back seat.

"So, Bella, what are the plans for Thursday?"

"Technically, I'm the one crashing your party, so why don't you tell me? What do you guys usually do?" I pause, but receive no response. Jasper's hand grips mine a little tighter, and an uncomfortable silence settles in the air.

"Kate and Garrett usually take us out to dinner, but last year we just went to their house. I don't really remember much from when we were little," she answers quietly.

Jasper takes a deep breath, glancing surreptitiously at Rosie in the rear view mirror. I squeeze his hand, mouthing an apology, and he offers a half-smile in return.

"Rosie, have I ever told you about our last Thanksgiving with Dad?" he asks. She looks up hopefully, shaking her head. "You were too young to remember… I guess about, what, eighteen months old?"

"Yeah, I guess so," she answers.

"It was pretty much one of the most perfect days ever. You were so excited about having turkey for dinner, but you kept calling it 'tur-tey.' Dad thought it was hilarious, so he kept getting you to say it. We were all laughing, and so were you. You loved all the attention."

"Of course I did," she laughs.

"It was a beautiful day, so Mom sent us down to the park to play while she finished dinner. Dad pushed you on the swings for like an hour. You kept begging to go higher and higher. I'd never heard you giggle so much before that day."

"Like Garrett," she whispers.

"Yes, just like Garrett," he answers.

He pauses, checking on Rosie in the mirror again. She has her arms pulled tightly around her chest and her eyes are closed. She looks peaceful, her lips forming the slightest hint of a smile.

"We came home and ate 'tur-tey' and 'pumpiny pie,' and after dinner you fell asleep on Dad's lap while we watched the Cowboys play. I don't know how you stayed asleep that whole time. We were trying so hard not to yell, even though it was a crazy game. The 1994 Thanksgiving game is pretty legendary."

"Oh, I remember that one!" I interrupt. "I'm pretty sure my dad went hoarse from yelling. It looked like it was going to be an ugly game since Aikman was injured. He was my first crush, you know."

"Oh, really?" Jasper laughs, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, really. He was so dreamy," I tease, sighing dramatically. "I was devastated when he got hurt. Then they send that redhead in, and I was pretty much pouting the whole time. They called it 'Jason Garrett Day,' and my little eight-year-old heart was practically broken."

"Don't like gingers, huh?" he asks.

"I'm actually partial to blondes," I answer, winking.

"Good to know," he says, smiling. Rosie clears her throat loudly, so Jasper continues his story. "Anyway. I took you into our room and put you in your crib. When I came back out, Mom and Dad had turned the television off. Dad turned their song on, and they slow danced. I just stood in the hallway and watched them for the longest time. They played it over and over again. She had her head on his chest and one hand on his shoulder. He was holding the other one against his heart. I remember thinking how lucky I was that they were so in love."

He trails off slowly, and I can feel the tension and unhappiness creep back in. His hand grips mine tightly, and his arms are stiff. I feel it spread by touch, absorbed into my own skin and deeper. My heart breaks all over again for the sad little boy who lost everything in one night. I turn to see if his sister is faring any better. All traces of her smile are gone; she might pass for sleeping if not for the lone tear trickling down her cheek.

"After he died, holidays were pretty subdued. She didn't make as big a deal out of it for a long time, and then when she tried, it kind of backfired," he explains to me quietly, darting careful glances back at Rosie.

I feel terrible that my attempt at conversation has once again led to such bittersweet memories. I can't regret it, though, because the earlier smile on Rosie's face was worth it. She doesn't remember her father in the same way that I don't remember my mother. No matter how hard it is to know what I've missed out on, the stories my father tells me about her are what help me to fill that void. Through his words, she's alive within me. I hope that through Jasper's, Rosie might feel the same way.

"How about a favorite dish?" I offer in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. "Rosie? Anything but sweet potatoes. Sweet potatoes and I have a history full of animosity, and you'll be on your own if you choose to eat them."

The tension breaks, Jasper laughs loudly and fingers the sweet potato scar on my hand, and Rosie giggles as she wipes away her tear. Victory.

"I hate sweet potatoes," Rosie laughs, "so no issue there. I love pumpkin pie, and Jasper's favorite is Brussels sprouts."

"_Brussels sprouts_?" I ask. He looks embarrassed.

"Of course. They're delicious andnutritious," he argues. "They were my dad's favorite, too."

"Luckily enough, Charlie happens to love them, too, so I have a killer recipe."

"That's a relief. If all else fails, we can bond over our love of small cabbages."

"Tiny cabbages, football… I think you have some excellent conversation starters there," I tease, and he rolls his eyes at me.

We arrive at my apartment with about an hour to spare before my dad is expected. Rosie and Jasper settle into the couch while I quickly throw dinner in the oven and toss a salad. The Chief – punctual as ever – arrives at precisely eight o'clock. Jasper jumps up off the couch at the knock on the door, rolling his head from side to side and nodding his head seriously at me, as if he's ready to do battle. I shake my head and grab his hand, leading him to the door. He stands just slightly behind me as I answer it.

Charlie bursts in with an infectious smile on his face, pulling me into a suffocating hug and swinging me off the floor in a circle. I laugh and pound on his chest with my fists until he releases me into a normal hug.

"Hi, Daddy. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, honey. It's good to see you."

"Dad, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Jasper Whitlock," I say, turning to gesture to Jasper, who is waiting with an outreached hand.

Charlie puts on his "dad face" immediately, and I struggle not to show my annoyance. Instead of taking Jasper's proffered hand, he takes his time in removing his coat. He, of course, is wearing his gun on a shoulder holster beneath it. He pulls out his badge next, flashing it "accidentally" before sliding it into his coat pocket. He hangs his coat on the rack next to the front door, then removes his shoulder holster and adds it to the pile. So subtle.

Jasper is still waiting with his hand in the air and a look of raw determination on his face. Charlie finally takes his hand and shakes it firmly, eying him up and down carefully as he does so.

"Jasper," he mumbles gruffly. "Good to finally meet you, son. I've heard an awful lot about you."

"You too, sir. Bella talks about you all the time."

Jasper remains steady and calm, exuding confidence, and I notice the moment Charlie makes up his mind about him. His mustache twitches slightly and one corner of his mouth quirks upward. He lets go of his hand, his eyes twinkling. Jasper seems to notice the shift as well, and he smiles first at my dad and then at me before turning to wave Rosie over.

"Chief Swan, this is my sister, Rosalie."

"Actually, I prefer Rose or Rosie, if you don't mind. Rosalie's way too old-fashioned for me. Some of us," she says, gesturing to Jasper, "aren't lucky enough to have nicknames. Poor Jasper. It's really so tragic."

"Hey, now. He only just got here, so let's not start Tease Jasper Day already, okay?" Jasper begs.

"Oh, fine. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that. How long are you here for, Chief?"

He shakes Rosie's hand, laughing heartily at this point.

"I'll call you Rose if you promise to call me Charlie… both of you, if you don't mind. And I'm here all week. No sense torturing the poor boy so soon. We'll give him time to relax and let his guard down and then go with a sneak attack later."

"Bella, I really like your dad."

I turn on the some music and we settle into dinner. Conversation is easy and relaxed, just like the first time I met Rosie. She brightens the room with her teasing smiles and easy rapport, and Charlie takes to her immediately. He watches Jasper carefully, noting the way he holds my hand throughout dinner. His eyes flicker to mine whenever Jasper watches me. He smiles tightly when Jasper reaches out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear. He grills him good-naturedly about school and work, but he's much more laid back than I had anticipated. Jasper seems comfortable and relieved that things are going so well, and I can't help but feel that he's making a great first impression. He sounds smart, respectful, and responsible, and Charlie looks quite impressed.

I notice a shift in Jasper's posture halfway through dessert. His hand tightens almost painfully around mine, and his palm becomes cold and sweaty. His eyes are lost somewhere over his cobbler, and my heart clenches at the sight. I have no idea what has set him off this time. We were joking about how bad Oklahoma was playing this year. Was it football? I remember that he spaced out at the Texas game we went to. Silence settles over the table. Charlie's unanswered question lingers in the air, and Jasper remains lost. Rosie looks panicked.

"Jasper," I whisper, squeezing his hand in both of mine. "Jasper, please come back."

I scoot closer, running one hand up his arm and into the hair at the base of his neck. My fingers scratch soothingly, and I notice his breathing has quickened. I'm certain his heart must be pounding frantically.

"Jasper, please," I beg, more forcefully this time. Strains of a familiar melody echo in the answering silence.

Suddenly, Rosie jumps out of her chair and runs to the stereo, turning it off. I bring Jasper's hand to my lips, kissing it softly, and he slowly drifts back into the present. My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I glance surreptitiously at Charlie. He doesn't look angry, but his brow is furrowed and his lips are tight. His eyes meet mine, and I see his concern plainly in his features. It is merely a shadow of my own.

**–*–*–**

_**November 25, 2004 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 11)**_

"_Jasper? Rosalie?" Mom called. "Garrett's here. Hurry up!"_

_Her voice was clear and steady, and I laughed as I chased a squealing Rosie down the hallway to the front door, threatening to tickle her. Mom had been having a lot of good days lately. In fact, it had been more than two months since her last bad day: ever since the last anniversary of my dad's death. That day had been the culmination of a really bad year, but as far as I could tell, she hadn't had a single drink since that night. I hoped that she had remembered what I said that night and taken it to heart. I almost regretted the words I'd said, but if they ended up pushing her into a better place, it was definitely worth it. _

_Lately, instead of coming home from school to Elvis and ice clinking in empty glasses, we came home to find her baking cookies or starting dinner. She went back to packing lunches for Rosie and helping her with her homework. She asked me about my day and actually listened when I answered. I was starting to think that things were turning around. _

_My eighteenth birthday was eight months away, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn't counting down the days. If things kept going the way had been, we might be okay after all. _

_She had gotten up early this morning and spent all day in the kitchen making a Thanksgiving feast. We hadn't had a real holiday in so long, and the smell of turkey and stuffing was driving me and Rosie both crazy. Rosie had been bugging her all day, trying to sneak tastes, so Mom called Garrett to kidnap us. He was taking us to a movie and to play basketball at the park until it was time for dinner._

_Garrett was standing in the doorway, talking to Mom, and Rosie ran straight for him. She jumped up into his arms, and he hugged her tightly, twirling her in a circle. Mom watched them carefully, and a hint of sadness passed through her eyes. I thought I saw her brush away a tear, but then she was smiling again and I figured I must have been wrong. _

"_Alright, come kiss me goodbye, you two," she said, smiling._

_I gave her a careful hug and a kiss on the cheek. Despite her recent good mood, I still had a hard time being close to her like that. The scars on my back tingled when she hugged me closer, and I held my breath until she let go. She grabbed my face between her hands and looked me dead in the eye. I smiled at how clear they were. She was here. She could see me. _

_She was my mom._

"_Jasper, baby. I love you so much. You know that, right?"_

"_Sure I do," I mumbled uncomfortably. Her face fell a little, so I added, "I love you, too, Mom."_

_She kissed me on the cheek and let me go, pulling Rosie into a hug instead._

"_My sweet Rosie-bee. You look so beautiful in your new dress, sweetheart. I love you. You be good for Garrett, you hear?"_

"_Of course I will be. I'm only mean to Garrett when he deserves it. I guess that's most of the time, though," she laughed, punching him in the ribs. He feigned injury, as usual, before laughing and running his hand roughly over her head. I was pretty sure I heard him mumble something about her being a brat. "I love you, too, Mom."_

"_Have fun at the movie, and take your time. I don't want you back here until seven, okay? I have a lot to do and I don't want grubby fingers in all the food."_

"_Don't worry, Mrs. Whitlock," Garrett said. "I'll take good care of them, and we won't bug you until you're ready. And thanks again for inviting me to dinner. I really appreciate the invitation."_

"_Of course. It means a lot to the kids that you're here. You take such good care of them, and I know you always will. They're lucky to have you."_

_Garrett smiled sheepishly, and for a minute I thought he might blush. Garrett never blushed._

"_Thank you, ma'am. Good luck with dinner. We'll see you at seven, sharp."_

_We all walked out to Garrett's jeep, Rosie holding his hand the whole way, of course. I slid into the front seat and watched my mom as we backed away. She stood on the porch steps, waving sadly until I couldn't see her anymore. My stomach flipped in an almost familiar way as I watched her disappear in my side view mirror._

"_So, short stack, what's it gonna be?" Garrett asked. "'The Incredibles' or 'The Polar Express?' I'm kind of feeling incredible today, myself."_

"_You always think you're incredible, Garrett," she teased. "Not everyone agrees."_

"_Sticks and stones, my friend. Sticks and stones."_

"_Whatever, Garrett. You know you like it when I'm mean to you," Rosie laughed. He didn't contradict her. We all knew it was true. _

"_So, Jasper," Garrett began, "how are things going? Your mom seemed good today."_

"_Yeah, she's great. She's been busy doing volunteer work and stuff. I think she really likes it. She's not usually so into the holidays. I'm kinda surprised she's making such a big deal out of today. My dad loved Thanksgiving."_

"_It's hard for some people," he said gently. "Remembering the happy times is sometimes harder than remembering the sad times. It reminds you what you're missing."_

"_Yeah, I think you're right. She's been really great lately, though. I think it's finally getting easier for her."_

"_Can we forget about all this sad stuff for awhile?" Rosie pleaded. "It's Turkey Day, and I'm going to beat you both up if you ruin it for me."_

_We all laughed, and Garrett turned the radio up for the rest of the drive. We ended up seeing 'The Incredibles,' after all, and for a kid's movie, it was pretty funny. Rosie spent the rest of the day calling Garrett "Mr. Incredible."_

_We headed home to park the car and walk the few blocks down to the park. There was something taped to the front door of our house, but I figured Mom would find it or I'd get it later. Garrett pulled his basketball out of his trunk and we headed out._

_Rosie ran straight for the swings, and Garrett followed to push her. The swings were always her favorite, and I didn't think she'd ever outgrow them. She didn't really need the help anymore, but she always let him start out pushing her anyway. It was their little game, and she couldn't get nearly as high on her own. He pushed her higher and higher until she was shrieking with laughter. It was a windy day, and between the swinging and the breeze, her hair was going in about a million different directions. _

_I sat on the swing next to hers, watching her have fun. She had been doing so much better since Mom had stopped drinking. She wasn't as nervous when we walked in the front door after school, and she hadn't had as many nightmares as usual in the last couple weeks. Her eyes were brighter without the dark shadows that the bad dreams caused. She smiled and laughed more often._

_After she got tired of swinging, she took up her usual spot on the bleachers to watch Garrett and me shoot some hoops. I was almost as tall as he was and our games were much more competitive these days. I wasn't just a kid anymore, and every second or third game I beat him. He was pretty good-natured about it, even when I won. He insisted it was only because he taught me everything I know._

_Our game quickly went from easy-going and fun to fast and intense. We pushed and talked trash, and Rosie cheered equally for both of us. Before too long, I noticed a chill in the air. I paused and looked up just as the sky opened up and it started pouring rain on us. Mom was going to be pissed; we still had almost two hours before we were supposed to be home. Rosie screamed and Garrett ran over to grab her, pulling her up onto his back. I grabbed the basketball and we jogged home as fast as we could. _

_Rosie was laughing and complaining about how cold she was, and Garrett was huffing and puffing at all the extra weight he was carrying. _

"_You sure you've got her, old man?" I asked. "Maybe you should let me show you how it's done. Wouldn't want you to hurt your back or break a hip or anything."_

_I couldn't move out of the way fast enough before he landed a pretty good punch to my shoulder._

"_I'm just fine, thank you. I can probably bench press more than you weigh, kid," he laughed. I punched him back, but he only laughed harder._

"_One of these days, I'm going to punch you hard enough to wipe that smirk off your face," I threatened. "Maybe then you'll stop calling me 'kid.'"_

"_Whatever you say. I'll stop calling you kid when you stop acting like one."_

_I scowled as we stopped in front of our house. Garrett let Rosie down and left us to go change his clothes. He told us to change into something dry and then head over to watch a movie so we wouldn't bother our mom. _

_The paper I had noticed earlier was still stuck to the front door, so I pulled it off. It was addressed to me. I opened it to read, vaguely registering Rosie knocking loudly on the door for Mom to come and open it. _

_As the words on the page began to sink in, I felt like water was crashing all around me, drowning me. I could hardly breathe, and my heart was thundering painfully in my chest. My hands started shaking. Rosie was calling my name, but I could hardly hear it through the now howling wind and my own racing mind. I folded the paper carefully and slid it into my pocket, turning to face her. She looked as frightened as I felt._

"_Rosalie, listen to me," I said, as calmly and forcefully as I could manage. "I want you to go next door and get Garrett. Tell him to call an ambulance. Mom is sick. After he does that, tell him to come help me. I want you to stay over there no matter what, do you hear me?"_

"_Jasper, what's going on?" Rosie begged, her eyes filling with tears._

"_Don't be scared, sweetie, everything's fine. Mom's just not feeling well and I don't want you to get sick. Just listen to me carefully," I explained. I held her shoulders gently and bent over so we were the same height. "You stay over there until I come and get you. Do you understand? Just like the closet. Go hide somewhere and do not come out for anyone but me or Garrett. Promise me."_

"_I promise."_

_I kissed her forehead and pushed her gently toward Garrett's house. I could hear her sobbing as she ran. I only had a few minutes before Garrett was with me. I took a deep breath and reached a shaking hand into my pocket for my house key. I unlocked the door and swung it open, steeling myself for whatever I might find inside. _

"_Mom?"_

_The silence was deafening._

_

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**Who's still with me? Anyone have a theory about what's going on?**

**Chapters 11 and 12 are a double feature – Double Exposure parts 1 and 2****. Part 2 will be up next Wednesday.**

**Hearts and thank yous to justaskalice and staceygirl aka jackbauer for their beta skills and patience. Love to Lucette21 for pre-reading and commenting. They all help make it better. :)**

**I put a few examples of double exposures on my livejournal if you're curious. :) daisy3853 (dot) livejournal (dot) com**

**The final list of nominations for the Indies is up! There are some fantastic stories in there. Please to be reading now, and be ready to vote starting on February 20****th****!**

**www (dot) theindietwificawards (dot) com/ValidatedStoriesByCategories (dot) aspx**


	12. Double Exposure part 2

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the **_**Twilight**_** series, but Jasper still owns me.**

**Just a quick reminder before you start… This is part 2 of Double Exposure from chapter 11. We pick up where we left off with Jasper's flashback at the end of 11. You've already seen a bit of the beginning, but I repeated it to set the scene. See you on the other side. :)**

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"**Black and white are the colors of photography. To me they symbolize the alternatives of hope and despair to which mankind is forever subjected."**

– **Robert Frank **

_**November 25, 2004 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 11)**_

Jasper,

Please don't come inside.

Let Garrett take care of you. It'll be better this way.

Please don't ever tell Rosie the truth.

You were always on my mind.

I love you.

_As the words on the page began to sink in, I felt like water was crashing all around me, drowning me. I could hardly breathe, and my heart was thundering painfully in my chest. My hands started shaking. Rosie was calling my name, but I could barely hear it through the now howling wind and my own racing mind. I folded the paper carefully and slid it into my pocket, turning to face her. She looked as frightened as I felt._

"_Rosalie, listen to me," I said, as calmly and forcefully as I could manage. "I want you to go next door and get Garrett. Tell him to call an ambulance. Mom is sick. After he does that, tell him to come help me. I want you to stay over there no matter what, do you hear me?"_

"_Jasper, what's going on?" Rosie begged, her eyes filling with tears._

"_Don't be scared, sweetie, everything's fine. Mom's just not feeling well and I don't want you to get sick. Just listen to me carefully," I explained. I held her shoulders gently and bent over so we were the same height. "You stay over there until I come and get you. Do you understand? Just like the closet. Go hide somewhere and do not come out for anyone but me or Garrett. Promise me."_

"_I promise."_

_I kissed her forehead and pushed her gently toward Garrett's house. I could hear her sobbing as she ran. I only had a few minutes before Garrett was with me. I took a deep breath and reached a shaking hand into my pocket for my house key. I unlocked the door and swung it open, steeling myself for whatever I might find inside. _

"_Mom?"_

_The silence was deafening._

_It took me a minute to make my feet work, but I finally managed to take a step. I couldn't breathe. I felt as if something enormous was sitting on me, weighing me down. My whole body was dragging except for my heart, which was beating overtime, so hard I thought it might punch through the walls of my chest._

_I walked inside slowly, taking in the scene before me. Elvis was playing from the corner of the living room. My parents' song, of course. An empty bottle of vodka sat next to an empty glass on the coffee table. I hadn't been paying as much attention to the bottles lately, so I had no idea how much she had drunk. Photo albums lay open all over the couch and table. I noticed my parents' wedding album, Rosie's baby book, and the pictures from our family trip to Sea World that last summer together. _

_I saw the picture of my mom and dad smiling together on their wedding day. They were staring into each other's eyes, and my dad held her hand up as if he were about to kiss it. The love I saw in her face – the love I'd been looking for ever since he left us – snapped me out of my haze. I had to find her. I could only hope she hadn't left us, too._

_My mind was racing through all the possibilities so fast__ that__ I couldn't decide where to start. I could feel my pulse and the adrenaline coursing through my body, pounding in my ears and in my temples. I wanted to find her, but at the same time I was scared of what I might find. I just knew I needed to act fast. _

_I sprinted down the hallway and toward her room, pausing in front of the kitchen. The double door was closed. That door was never closed. She always said it made the house seem so much bigger when they were wide open. She had tried to get my dad to remove them entirely, but he'd never gotten around to it._

_There was a towel jammed into the crack below the door to seal it off from the rest of the house. Fuck. _

_I pulled the doors open and was immediately assaulted by the smell of gas. The rotten egg smell and the sight before me turned my stomach, and I almost vomited. My mom sat at the kitchen table, as if she'd fallen asleep there, except her face was deathly pale. _

_I ran in, turned off the oven and the unlit stove burners, and went to her. I choked in jagged breaths, trying to find some oxygen in the heavy air around me. I pulled her chair back from the table, sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back to lift her. I ran as fast as I could, coughing and sputtering as I went. My eyes burned and I stumbled. I got to the door just as Garrett did. _

"_What happened?" he asked, his eyes searching me and the room behind us._

"_Gas," I choked out. His eyes grew wide as he smelled it. He stepped aside and guided me toward his front porch. I laid her down and sat beside her, and Garrett ran off toward our house before I could say anything. I leaned over her hesitantly, afraid to see what the damage was. She looked still and so pale. I traced my fingers over her cheeks. They were crusty with dried tears. I felt my own pricking the corners of my eyes. _

_I moved my fingers down to her neck, swallowing thickly as I felt for a pulse. _

_Faintly. It was weak but very rapid, and it was there._

_I leaned down and put my ear next to her open mouth like we learned in health class. I could feel her breathing. I exhaled loudly as I sat back down._

_I pulled her hand into mine and rubbed it gently. It wasn't the hand that had held the belts and the broken bottles and cigarettes over the last nine years. It was the hand that had ruffled through my hair in front of the school bus every morning and rubbed my back until I fell asleep at night. She looked every bit as broken as I knew she was, but in that moment, none of the bullshit mattered. She was my mom. I had been afraid of her, pitied her, resented her, and sometimes even hated her, but I still loved her. I couldn't lose her the way I lost him._

"_Is she…" I hadn't even noticed Garrett walk up._

"_She's breathing."_

_I felt the relief wash over both of us. Garrett moved to my side to sit with me. I turned to look at him, and I could see the questions that were about to follow in his eyes. _

"_I broke the kitchen window to help ventilate," he said. "I didn't want to go inside, just in case something sparked."_

"_Thanks."_

_I could hear the sirens in the distance, and some small part of me registered that they were coming to help us._

"_Jasper, what the hell happened over there?"_

_He stared me straight in the eye, and I steeled myself for yet another lie. I felt my face harden. As he looked on, all the emotion drain away, replaced with my practiced calm exterior. His brow furrowed slightly and his eyes were tinged with frustration. I knew he recognized this mask, and I hated pushing him away. A voice deep inside was screaming at me to tell him, to lift up my shirt and show him the wounds on my back. It was yelling, reminding me to hand him the note she left me and show him the burns on my neck. It told me not to forget about the scars on my hand and the burn on my chest. It said not to worry, that he'd take care of us. He would keep us safe._

_Then I looked down at my mom. I saw her fragile body and the dried tears on her face. She had seemed so much happier over the last few weeks. I wondered how I'd missed this. I knew she didn't want to hurt us. I needed to get her help, and maybe this would be the push she needed to get better. If she was already depressed enough to do this, what would happen if they took us away right now? I needed more time._

"_She was taking a nap on the couch, and I guess the wind blew out the pilot light. She must have passed out from the gas."_

"_I thought she was cooking. Why was she sleeping?"_

"_I don't know. She was up so early and she'd been cooking all day. I guess she was just worn out. The turkey was still in the oven. Maybe she just wanted to get off her feet for awhile."_

_He opened his mouth to speak, but the sirens grew louder as the ambulance turned onto our street. He gave me a look that meant we'd talk about it later, and I nodded. _

"_Where is she?" I asked._

"_My closet. I could barely get anything out of her because she was crying so hard. When I picked up the phone, she ran off to my room. You should go to her."_

"_Will you tell them what happened? I'll meet them at the hospital after I talk to Rosie."_

"_Of course."_

_The ambulance was in front of Garrett's house, and the EMTs jumped out and ran for the porch. I took one more look at my mom before turning to walk inside._

_Garrett's house was dark and quiet. I heard the sound of something dripping and realized it was me. My clothes were still soaked from our run home in the rainstorm. Once I started thinking about it, I realized I was shaking, shivering from the cold. I shook it off._

_I walked quickly and calmly back to Garrett's room. The door was wide open. I went and sat on the floor in front of his closet. It wasn't hers, and there wasn't a lock, but of course it was where she'd gone. I could hear her quiet sobs on the other side of the door. I placed my palm flat up against the wood, like always. I imagined she might be doing the same thing on the other side._

"_Rosie?"_

"_Jasper?" she cried._

"_It's me, sweetie. It's okay to come out now. Everything is going to be okay."_

_Her cries slowly quieted, and the door creaked open. She shuffled out and collapsed into my lap. I whispered soothing words and rubbed her back while she sniffled._

"_It's okay, Rosie. She was just a little sick, but they're taking her to the hospital, and she's going to be fine."_

"_I was so scared," she whispered shakily. "You said to call an ambulance, and I thought she was going to die."_

"_I'm sorry I scared you, sweetie. You don't need to worry now. They're here now to help her, and it's going to be fine. Please don't cry."_

_She took a few more jagged breaths before she sat up._

"_Jasper, what did that letter say?"_

"_What letter?" I whispered._

"_The one on the door. You looked scared when you read it."_

"_It was just a note from Mom. She said that she wasn't feeling well and to be quiet when we came in." She watched me for a minute before she nodded and looked away. I hated lying to her, but I wasn't sure if knowing the truth was the best thing for her right now. "Listen, Rosie. I'm going to head over to the hospital for awhile until they get her settled in. Garrett's going to stay here with you, and then maybe if she's feeling better, he'll bring you down to visit her a little later, okay?"_

_I gave her another hug before leaving her with Garrett. He'd gone next door to get some dry clothes for both of us, so I changed and left Rosie hers before taking my mom's car and heading to the hospital._

_I drove in a daze, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. It had obviously been planned. Her mood, the dinner… I knew it was too good to be true. She kissed us goodbye and practically pushed us out the door. She made sure she'd have plenty of time. I wondered how long she had been planning it. I wondered if I hadn't been able to tell or if I'd just been in denial. _

_I pulled into the parking garage and sat for awhile, resting my head against the steering wheel._

_I had to decide what I was going to say to her. I tried to imagine what she might say to me. Would she be relieved that she'd failed? Would she feel guilty for trying to leave us? Or would this be one more thing I'd done wrong? I wondered if she'd be able to look me in the eye. I wondered if she understood that, despite all the pain, I still loved her and this wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want her to die._

_Most of all, I couldn't get the words I'd said to her two months ago out of my head. Up until this afternoon, I had thought our argument had been a wakeup call for her. It was the first time I had ever thought she understood what she was gambling. What she might lose. At the time I didn't think she'd remember after she slept it off, but when she'd changed so drastically, I'd let myself hope._

_Instead I was left wondering if my words had made her decision for her, and I couldn't help the guilt that was churning deep in my chest. I knew it wasn't rational. She was sick long before that night, and I knew she wouldn't be able to get past this until she admitted that she needed help. I had tried, but she refused. I tried to be there for her while she grieved, but it never seemed to make a difference. I'd comforted her after each time she'd hurt me. I'd tucked her into bed afterward and told her I loved her. And after all of that, she still didn't understand what her selfishness cost us. I was doing the best I could. It was just never fucking good enough._

_I let go of the steering wheel, and my fingers ached as the blood rushed back in. I hadn't realized how tightly I was gripping the wheel. I pounded my fists against it in frustration. No matter what else happened when I saw her, I had to keep it together._

_The rest of the evening was a blur. The people in the emergency room bustled around me as if I wasn't there. The noises filled my head until I thought it might explode. The constant beeping, the sounds of curtains being drawn and instrument trays being laid down. Doctors shouting instructions. Chaos. The smell of disinfectant and sickness and death made me want to vomit again. _

_They told me she was lucky. They said she probably started feeling nauseous and dizzy as the gas built up and mistook her symptoms for sickness. They said she laid down for a nap and might not have ever woken up if we hadn't come home when we did. They weren't sure why she hadn't smelled it. They told me I was brave for saving her, and they were sure she'd be so proud when she woke up. I hated that I couldn't be sure of that._

_They finally moved her to her own room. I closed the door and sat by her side, thankful for the relative peace. Her heart monitor kept up its steady beeping, and the oxygen going to her mask hissed quietly._

_I sat next to her and held her hand again. I could see the color coming back to her cheeks, and her skin already seemed warmer. After awhile, she woke up, squeezing my hand as her eyes opened. I watched as they roamed the room. I saw the realization of where she was and what had happened slowly creep into her features. When her eyes met mine, they were wet. I willed mine to stay dry._

_She reached up to pull down her oxygen mask. I tried to stop her but she shook her head._

"_Jasper," she wheezed, "baby, I'm so sorry."_

"_Why'd you do it?" I whispered._

"_I wanted to see him again," she admitted quietly. "I miss him so much it hurts. You just don't understand. Someday you'll find that girl, the one who takes all your fears away and makes everything right. When your dad died, nothing was right anymore."_

_I couldn't control my temper anymore, not when all she had to offer was the same old excuse. My face was hot with anger, and my blood was pounding in my ears. I dropped her hand and scooted my chair back until I was several feet away from her. I tried to keep my voice down so they wouldn't come in to check on us. My words were dripping with venom all the same._

"_You're fucking right I don't understand," I spat. "What about Rosalie? You don't think she deserves a mother? She doesn't even remember him. She competes with a fucking ghost for your love every single day of her life, and for what? So you can leave her, too? So you can keep right on disappointing her?"_

"_I thought you'd be better off without me," she cried. "After what you said that day… that day after the bar... I just didn't want to hurt you anymore."_

"_Did you ever stop to think about what this would do to Rosie? You're the only parent she's ever known. How was I supposed to explain that she wasn't a good enough reason for you to stick around?"_

"_I'm not good for either of you. Garrett loves you. You would have been happy."_

"_You don't know that. She would have been devastated enough just to lose you, and one day she would've figured out the truth. It would have destroyed her. You don't get to take the easy way out and you do not get to fucking walk away from her like that. I won't let you do that to her. She doesn't deserve to go through her life wondering what else she could have done to make you happy. She deserves to be happy. She deserves to know that she's good enough for you."_

_Her heart monitor was beeping frantically now. I knew I didn't have long before the nurses came to check on her._

"_You were always good enough for me, both of you," she sobbed quietly. "I'm not good enough for you."_

_I shook my head violently and stood up to go. _

"_You don't mean that. I told them it was an accident, so don't worry. Nobody knows the truth but me. But this is it. You're going to fix this. You're going to go to AA and you're going to go see a shrink. You're going to stop letting a ghost rule your life and you're going to pay attention to your daughter. If you fuck this up one more time, I'm going to the police. You will never see either of us again. I love you, Mom, but I won't let you hurt her, and I won't let you keep hurting yourself."_

"_Jasper, please –"_

"_No, I'm done talking. You're going to make this right. Now I'm going home to Rosie because she's scared and she needs me. I'll bring her to see you in the morning. You figure out before then what's important to you. If it's not us, then we're through."_

_She nodded, still sobbing, and I turned to go. I almost collided with a nurse who asked if everything was okay. I mumbled an excuse and ran._

_I found the closest supply closet I could and ducked inside. I pressed my back up against the door and sank to the ground weakly, pulling my knees to my chest. I couldn't stop my tears this time. I cried for what I had lost nine years ago on that highway. I cried for what she had done to me since. I cried for what she had almost taken from me and from Rosalie when she turned on the gas. I cried when I thought about what would have happened if it hadn't started raining. I cried because part of me wondered if she was going to give up and run away from us tonight. _

_I cried because part of me wanted her to._

**–*–*–**

**Present Day**

Jasper's frightened eyes meet mine, and for a moment he almost looks relieved. Then he sees my father sitting across the table from him, and he looks devastated.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I – I must have zoned out for a minute," he chuckles, trying to make light of the situation.

"That's alright, son. Do you 'zone out' like that a lot?" Charlie asks. He looks concerned, not angry, and for that I am grateful. Jasper squeezes my hand gently and darts a questioning glance at me. I squeeze back and nod minutely, trying to reassure him.

"I don't know if I'd say a lot, but it happens on occasion."

Charlie nods thoughtfully, his brows slightly pinched as he assesses the situation.

"Well, dinner was delicious, Bella," he says, looking around the table until his eyes fall on a frightened Rosalie. "I think I need to stretch my legs, though. That drive took longer than I thought it would and my knees are aching. Rosie, would you keep an old man company on his walk?"

Rosie looks relieved as she accepts, and soon after, Jasper and I are alone.

"God, Bella, I'm so sorry," he says, and his eyes are pleading for forgiveness.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"Your dad… things were going so well, and then I fucked it up."

"You didn't fuck anything up, so stop apologizing. I'm just worried about you, and so was my dad. What's going on with you? Sometimes it's like you disappear. I have no idea where you go, but you're not with me."

"Sometimes I have these little… I don't know, episodes? That makes me sound totally fucked up. I remember things. It's like I'm reliving them. I feel like I'm there again."

"Where?"

"Different places. It's all memories from before, with my mom mostly. Sometimes I remember my dad, but usually it's a bad day with my mom."

"And today? It was a bad one, wasn't it?" I ask, but I almost don't want the answer. Almost.

"Today was a really bad one. My mom tried to – she tried to kill herself on Thanksgiving. I was seventeen. I came home and that song was playing on the stereo. It was still playing when I went home to pack some things for Rosie and me after I left her at the hospital. She'd set their song on fucking repeat. It was the song they danced to on their first date and at their wedding. It was the song they were dancing to that last Thanksgiving before he died. I guess it was the last thing she wanted to listen to."

The air rushes out of my lungs forcefully, and I feel as if all the blood in my body has been replaced with ice water. My pulse pounds a chilling beat as my heart tries to escape my chest. The more I hear about his childhood and his mother, the more I want to magically fix everything for him. Unfortunately, the more I hear, the more I know that's not possible. I don't know how to fix this.

"Why?" I ask faintly.

"She said she wanted to see him again. She couldn't live without him because nothing was right without him. That's why she drank, too. I think when she got drunk enough, she could imagine that he was with her. She used to listen to that song over and over and over. Just wallowing in all of it. Rosie doesn't even know. I couldn't bear to tell her."

"The song. That Elvis song that was playing when you… you know. Is that why Rosie turned it off?"

"Yeah. Stuff like that sets me off sometimes. It triggers these memories, and it's like everything in front of me vanishes. I don't just see things, it's like I'm really _there_. I feel everything just like I did before," he says quietly. He turns to me, brushing his fingertips along my cheek as he speaks again. "But with you… I don't know what it is. When you touch me, I'm alive again. When you speak, it's all I hear. Somehow you find me, no matter where I am. You bring me back. I – "

His eyes are no longer full of fear or regret, but longing. His palm cradles my face, and his thumb traces my cheek softly before moving to my lips. He opens his mouth as if to finish his sentence, but instead he leans slowly forward, replacing his thumb with his lips. His kiss is tender and sweet and timid, and over entirely too soon.

"It's going to be okay, Jasper," I whisper. "We're going to figure this out, together."

His answering smile warms his entire face and mine.

Charlie walks back in, telling Jasper that Rosie is waiting for him at his car. They exchange a friendly goodbye and a manly handshake, and Jasper kisses my cheek and tells me he'll see me at school.

I turn to clear the table, and Charlie follows me. We work in silent tandem, me rinsing and him loading the dishwasher. I grow more and more tense wondering why he hasn't said anything yet, worrying about what he'll say when he finally speaks. He didn't seem upset earlier, but his silence unnerves me.

"Bells, I think you scrubbed the finish off that one already," he chuckles, indicating the plate I'm taking my anxiety out on with the scrub brush. "Are we gonna talk about this?"

"I'm not going to stop seeing him, Dad. I'm sure you're worried, and I know he has a lot going on in his life. He has a lot of ghosts he's battling, but it doesn't matter to me."

"I know," he laughs, but I don't register his words right away.

"And I really think that if you just… wait. You what?"

"I'm not going to try to talk you out of seeing him. He's a very nice, respectful young man, and I think he cares a great deal about you. I am going to tell you that I don't think you loving him is going to fix him. I think that boy needs more help than you can give him. What I just saw was more than just a memory. I'm not sure what it is, but I think you need to talk to him about getting some professional help. With everything he's been through, I doubt he's ever thought about doing that for himself."

"I'm sure he hasn't," I agree. "Rosie's all he thinks about. He's probably never considered it."

"Alright, then that's settled. I like him, honey. I like him a lot. Just be careful. It looks like you two have a lot to work through, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I told you before, he's not going to hurt me. I know he won't. I'm going to try and help him, and if that's not enough then we'll figure out what will be."

"I hope you're right. I trust your judgement, and you obviously trust him. You need to understand that this isn't going to be simple. I just don't want to see you disappointed."

I see Jasper at school over the next few days, but otherwise I spend my time with Charlie. We rarely get so much uninterrupted time together, and I hadn't realized just how much I missed him. Before long, it's Thanksgiving Day. Kate and Garrett come over early in the day to watch football and help cook. Kate is lovely and welcoming, and within ten minutes I realize that she's probably the only woman on earth who could be a match for Garrett. I watch them argue good-naturedly, tease relentlessly, and love unabashedly. I take in the group before me, and understand for the first time that blood isn't all that that makes a family. These people have chosen each other, for better or worse, and they're as happy in each other's company as any family I've seen.

I'm chatting with Rosie and passing the carrots to Garrett when Kate interrupts.

"So, Bella, Charlie tells me I should ask you why we aren't eating sweet potatoes today?"

The teasing curve of her lip tells me she already knows, and Charlie has the good grace to look sheepish. I level him with my best glare before turning it on a chuckling Jasper.

"Bella and her knife got in a fight over a sweet potato one day," Jasper explains. "Bella's finger lost, and she never forgave the poor sweet potatoes. They're banned from the dinner table indefinitely."

Garrett joins in the laughter heartily, and I feel my cheeks growing hot.

"I did not 'lose a fight' with a vegetable, thank you very much," I grumble. "They are surprisingly hard to cut through, and I was twelve! My knife slipped. I don't know why this is so amusing. Shouldn't you be badgering Charlie for letting his twelve-year-old daughter play with sharp objects?"

"Aww, I'm sorry, B," Jasper laughs. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

His eyes plead forgiveness, but the humor behind them gives away his enjoyment of my discomfort.

"You don't fool me, Jasper Whitlock," I assure him. "Just remember, payback is a bitch."

My smile keeps the threat from being too intimidating, and it's not enough to wipe the smirk off his face.

"I'm sincerely sorry, Miss Bella," he murmurs as he lifts my hand to his lips.

"See? What did I tell you, Katie?" Garrett asks. "That kid is like my greatest accomplishment. Look at those dashing manners. I've created a monster."

"You've created another you," she teases. "I'm not sure if the world owes you a debt of gratitude or a cease and desist."

"I'm going to go with debt of gratitude," Garrett argues. "What about you, Bella?"

"I'm going to go with cease and desist," Rosie interrupts. "The last thing the world needs are little Garretts running around rampant. The horror!"

"You wound me, short stack. My heart is broken." He clutches his hands to his chest dramatically, and the table dissolves into laughter.

Kate and Garrett leave shortly after dinner in order to make it to her sister's house for their second dinner. Kate kisses both my cheeks and says she'll see me soon. Garrett hugs me long enough for Jasper to punch him in the ribs. Rosie and I take the dishes to the sink and start plating dessert while the boys retire to the couch to watch the Longhorns play the Aggies. My smile is pretty much permanent at this point, and I can't bring myself to care. So instead I smile at the dirty dishes I'm rinsing while Rosie loads the dishwasher.

"You look happy," she says, breaking the comfortable silence. "You look as happy as he does."

"I am happy. Today was a great day. I've been having a lot of those in the last few months."

"So has he," she giggles. After a few more minutes of silence, she asks another question, so quietly I barely hear the words. "Do you ever miss her?"

"Miss who?"

"Your mom." At once the space between us is slightly tense and much heavier. I knew our mutual loss would eventually be brought to the surface, I just wasn't expecting it yet.

"Honestly? I don't remember her. I do miss the idea of her. I missed not having a mom to braid my hair or talk about boys with. I miss her for my dad. I've never really felt whole without her. It's like there's a small piece of me that's always going to be empty. Charlie's done the best he could, but it doesn't make up for what I never had. I wish it did."

"That's what I'm worried about," she whispers softly. Her sad eyes remind me at once of the portrait Jasper took of her so many months ago. They remind me of Jasper's when he comes back from being lost in his memories. "You know, he told me it's up to me whether or not we see her. He said I have to make the decision, but I don't know if I'm ready to see her yet. I don't know if either of us could handle it if it ended badly again. I want to be able to forgive her, but I don't know if I can. I just don't want to disappoint him. But I have a mom, you know? What if she's different?"

"All he cares about is that you're safe and happy. If you're not ready, you're not ready. I don't think there's any way you could disappoint him."

"Thanks for making him talk to me about it. A year ago, he wouldn't have. He tries so hard to protect me from everything, and sometimes he forgets that he doesn't have to do this alone. I'm not the same little girl in pigtails that he had to stand in front of."

Her face hardens and she stands a little taller. I recognize the girl who confronted me at the football game and warned me not to hurt her brother. I'm reminded of the strength that they share, and I know that she's right. He doesn't need to stand in front of her anymore, she's strong enough to walk by his side if he'll let her.

"He just worries about you, and he didn't want you to be scared. My dad does the same thing. It's annoying, but they feel like they're only useful if they're protecting us from something. You should be honest with him about how it makes you feel. You're the most important thing in his life."

"One of them, it seems. He's better, you know? I've never seen him so happy. Even after we first got away, there was always the stress. He tried to hide it, but he couldn't hide it from me. He was always worried, always looking over his shoulder. It's like he can finally breathe. Even with all this stuff with my mom lately, he seems to be taking it in stride."

"I'm glad you think so," I say, beaming at her. "I love seeing him happy. I'm going to see what kind of pie the boys want. Will you start the whipped cream?"

She nods, and I walk into the living room. The volume on the television has been turned down low, and I hear their voices over the sounds of the game. I know I shouldn't, but I approach quietly, trying to make out what they're talking about.

"Do you still miss her?" Jasper asks.

"Honestly? I miss her every day. But every time I look at Bella, I see her mother. Not just in her eyes or her nose or the way one side of her mouth goes a little bit higher than the other side when she smiles at me. It's in the way she laughs and teases me, and the way her eyes flash when she's angry. She has so much of her mother in her," Charlie says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. My eyes well up with unshed tears as I listen to him answer a lifetime's worth of questions that I've been too afraid to ask him. "Does it hurt a little? Sure. Anything that reminds you what you're missing hurts. But it's worth it, for me. Bella's always been worth it. And if she's all that's left of Renee for me, that's just fine. I know if she'd had a choice, she wouldn't have changed a damn thing. When I look at Bella, I never see what I've lost. I see what I'm lucky enough to have. I just wish Renee could have been as lucky as I am, and I hope Bella knows how much I love her."

"I think she does," Jasper offers. "It's just not fair. I could never figure out why I wasn't good enough. You were there for Bella, you kept it together. She fell apart on us."

"People grieve differently, son. You can't blame yourself for your mother's mistakes. People get lost sometimes, and it's hard to know how to bring them back. Sometimes it takes a serious wake up call to get them to realize where they went wrong. Maybe losing the two of you did it for her. You'll never know if you're too scared to find out."

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm just missing something," Jasper admits quietly, and my heart breaks at his words. "I worry that Bella's going to figure that out someday, and I'll lose her."

"I wouldn't worry about Bella," Charlie chuckles. "She's stubborn and she knows how she feels. Just give it time to grow and you'll see it, too."

"How do you know?"

"I've never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you, and my Bella wouldn't look at you like that if she didn't think you were more than good enough."

Suddenly Rosie is at my side, arching an eyebrow at me and shoving two pieces of pumpkin pie in my hands. I'm embarrassed that I've been caught eavesdropping, but I can't seem to move from my spot or put words together. My mouth gapes at her and she laughs, breaking the silence and announcing our presence.

"I figured everyone would want pumpkin, am I right?"

"Absolutely," Charlie says enthusiastically. "Pumpkin's my favorite."

"Mine, too!" she says, as if it's the most random coincidence. "Pumpkin for you, Jasper?"

But Jasper doesn't answer. He's staring at me, an embarrassed grin on his lips, and a look in his eye that I can't quite identify. I walk over to hand him his pie and take a seat next to him. His eyes never leave mine, and I find myself grinning stupidly back at him.

"So, Jasper, Rosie," Charlie begins, cutting through the tension. Jasper snaps out of his daze and turns to face my dad. "I was thinking that you two should come up to Dallas with Bella for Christmas. I'd like to spend more time with both of you, and I think Bella would be excited to have you with us, too. What do you say?"

Rosie looks at Jasper hopefully, begging with her eyes. Jasper looks at me as if to confirm what Charlie said. I roll my eyes and kiss him quickly.

"Please?" I ask.

"Nothing would make me happier."

He tucks me under his arm, and Charlie turns the volume back up on the television. Rosie cheers fruitlessly for the Aggies just to tease Charlie, and I love that she's already found a level of comfort with him. Jasper and I share our piece of pie, and I find myself wondering how I got so lucky. I have the love of a devoted father, a growing relationship with my boyfriend, and a new friendship with his sister. I also know now for sure that I'm in love with Jasper, and as I watch the relaxed look of happiness on his face as he sits next to me, I wonder how much longer I'm going to be able to wait before I tell him.

* * *

**Alright, who's still with me? I'm passing out free hugs again for anyone who's interested. Thank you as always for reading. :)**

**I really can't say this enough, but my betas are the best betas there are. Justaskalice admitted to *almost* crying with this chapter which is huge for her, and staceygirl aka jackbauer admitted to being teary despite being pretty desensitized to stuff like this. Luckily, I've given Lucette21 custody of Garrett in exchange for all her tears, so I'm pretty sure we're okay. They all offer endless support and constructive feedback, and I appreciate every bit of it. **

**The song playing when Jasper found his mom is up on my livejournal page. daisy3853 (dot) livejournal (dot) com **

**Voting for the Indies starts February 20****th****! Have you started reading? I certainly hope so.**

**www (dot) theindietwificawards (dot) com/ValidatedStoriesByCategories (dot) aspx**


	13. Leading Lines

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the **_**Twilight**_** series, but Jasper still owns me.

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"**She glances at the photo, and the pilot light of memory flickers in her eyes."**

– **Frank Deford**

I lean gently against him as he leans back against the couch. My ponytail tickles his shoulder when I turn my head from side to side, and I feel his warmth through his soft, worn t-shirt that I stole to wear for our study session.

The scene around us is the picture of comfortable, organized chaos. Class notes, random prints and negatives, textbooks, and assorted writing utensils litter the floor surrounding us, but the peace between us is constant. Soft music and rustling pages fill the silence, and occasionally he leans over to kiss the back of my neck. Each time, I tell him to stop distracting me, but his answering chuckle shakes his body behind mine. I'm certain he can hear the smile in my voice.

We could only dig up one usable highlighter, and I hold it in the air just between us so we can pass it back and forth. If we were at my apartment, we could have made use of one of the five different colors in my arsenal. I don't tease him, though, because if that were true, his fingers wouldn't brush against mine every time he found something to make note of.

"Bella," he whines, "my shoulder's falling asleep again."

"Sounds like a personal problem," I answer, scooting about a foot away. I grin when I hear him shuffling closer.

"I didn't say you had to move so far away."

"Well that's sweet that you want to cuddle, but I have studying to do."

"Who said anything about cuddling? You stole my highlighter, woman. Stay close."

"Call me 'woman' again and you're not going to like where I put your highlighter," I threaten, elbowing his ribs to emphasize my point.

"Alright, alright. Mercy," he laughs. "_Bella,_ please don't sit so far away. I like having easy access to this little spot on the back of your neck." He snakes his arm around my waist to pull me close, leaning in to press his lips against his favorite spot again. I shiver in response.

"You're trying to distract me again," I say. "I'm only facing away from you to begin with so I can concentrate. You're foiling my plans."

"It's not my fault you think I'm a hot nerd," he teases.

"I do not think you're a nerd. I just think those glasses are… nice."

"You think I'm a hot nerd. Admit it."

I turn to face him, my eyes meeting his. His lopsided grin is smug; he knows he has me pegged. I'd never seen him wear his glasses until today, and when he casually slipped them on, I had to work hard not to stare. He said his allergies were bothering him so he abandoned his contacts. I considered accidentally disposing of said contacts, but I worried I'd never be able to concentrate if he wore glasses every day. He looks… older? Smarter? I'm not sure exactly, but for some reason I can't look away.

"Fine," I concede. "If I agree that you're a hot nerd, can we get back to work? You might not be worried about your lighting ratios, but I am."

"I agree to your terms. My shoulder's all better now, so as you were, my lady," he offers, ducking his head in an exaggerated bow.

"Oh, that's much more chivalrous. Did Garrett teach you that one?"

"No, _Garrett_ did not teach me my good manners," he says. "My dad taught me to respect women. Garrett just likes to think he's a good influence."

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he pouts. I like that he's just a tiny bit jealous of Garrett. It's not enough to make me worry that he's serious or truly uncomfortable, but just enough to remind me that he's insecure sometimes as well. I mimic his pout, jutting my bottom lip out as far as it will go. His expression melts into a smile as he leans in, taking my lip in between his. Our kiss is slow and comfortable, our hands gently exploring and pulling each other closer. I back away, mumbling about distractions, and he readjusts his glasses which have slid down his nose slightly. He grins victoriously at the involuntary sigh that escapes me.

"You are going to be the death of me," I say, scowling. "But I guess it's a good way to go."

His fingers linger in the hair at the base of my neck, moving in slow circles.

"I think we've been cooped up too long," he says quietly. "Why don't we take a walk to get some fresh air? We can burn off some of this cabin fever, and I think it'll help us concentrate better."

"That's probably a good idea," I agree.

He stands, stretching briefly before reaching to pull me to my feet. We each grab a hoodie and our shoes, and Jasper picks up his camera as well. He takes my hand to lead me out the door, and we make our way down the street.

The wind swirls around us in haphazard gusts, changing force and direction randomly. I shiver slightly when the cold air hits my cheeks, and Jasper pulls me under his arm. His fingers try to sneak up under the hem of my shirt, exposing the skin on my back to the chilling wind. I swat him away playfully, threatening retribution. He laughs but surrenders, moving his hand innocently to my hip and pulling me tightly into his side.

We walk in relaxed silence, and I breathe in deeply, enjoying the clean air. We've been cooped up in his house for the better part of the last three days. Finals start tomorrow, and the stagnant air of tension and stress has been smothering us beneath its weight. I'm itching for the end of the week and our trip to Dallas.

I'm not sure I've ever loved or appreciated my dad as much as I did in the moment he asked Jasper and Rosalie to spend Christmas with us in Dallas. I didn't realize how much his approval of Jasper would mean to me. I was all prepared to fight for myself and Jasper, convincing Charlie that I knew what I was getting into but that I was certain that Jasper was what I wanted. What I needed. Leave it to Charlie to size him up favorably within minutes.

Even after the disaster that was Jasper's 'episode' at their first dinner together, Charlie remained steadfast in his support. He made a genuine effort to spend time with both Jasper and Rosie, and he seemed to enjoy doing so. He knew how important it was to me. I know I need to concentrate on finals, but I can't stop thinking about Jasper: in my childhood home, walking down my street, at my favorite restaurant, sitting on my couch. I've never brought a boy home from school before, so this is all new and exciting.

"This way," he says, breaking the silence. He leads me down a side street to a small neighborhood park. He grabs my hand, pulling away from me to shrug as if asking if the park is a good idea. "Can I push you on the swings?"

I nod excitedly, following him over to the playground. I choose my swing, and Jasper moves behind me. His hands cover mine on the chains, and he leans in to whisper in my ear, his warm breath tickling my icy skin.

"Hold on tight."

He pushes me gently but firmly, and I lean into the movement as if it's been days rather than years since the last time I enjoyed this feeling. The winter air whips at my hair and my cheeks, but I hardly notice the cold. I giggle at the innocence of the moment, wondering why people let themselves outgrow such simplicity. He's laughing behind me, and every time his hands push me higher, I feel a rush that has more to do with his hands on me than with the thrill of flying through the air.

He settles into the swing next to mine, and we find a slow rhythm together. We're swinging side by side, but not quite in sync, meeting in the middle while moving in opposite arcs. He picks up his camera from around his neck and turns to the side. I laugh when he starts snapping pictures of me each time we pass each other. He grins wickedly, knowing I would usually try to turn away if I could. I've told him why I don't enjoy being photographed. With my dad, despite his best intentions, I'd eventually see her flicker in his eyes. The love, the memories, the pain. I realize that with Jasper, turning away doesn't cross my mind. I'm comfortable with the way he watches me; I know I have nothing to hide from him. No matter how long he looks at me, it's always the same. His gaze moves over me palpably, the tension builds, and if he's not already touching me he has to find a way to. He sees all of me.

"Hey," he says breathlessly.

"Hey yourself," I laugh.

"You look like you're a million miles away."

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"The best way to permanently get rid of your contacts," I tease.

"Oh, really?" he asks, arching an eyebrow. He seems to recognize that it was more than that, but he doesn't call me on it. "When were you thinking we should head up to Dallas?"

"Oh, I don't know. Whenever Rosie is done with school, I guess. Unless you have a reason to stay down here longer?"

"No, no reason. And – and you're sure you want us to come? I don't want to intrude on your family stuff or anything."

His eyes are on the gravel beneath us, and it amazes me that he's still sometimes so uncertain. I worry briefly that it's because he doesn't feel as deeply as I do, but I dismiss the thought almost immediately. He might not be ready to say the words, but I feel his devotion in everything he does. I'm not the only one who feels the energy between us, and his trust in me is growing steadily. I just can't decide if, in this case, he's trying to give me an out or find his own. I don't want to push him into this trip if he's not ready for it.

"Jasper, stop. It's really important to me and Charlie that you guys come up. If you're not comfortable with that, it's fine. But it would mean a lot to me if you'd come with me."

He gauges my expression silently for a moment before grinning brightly.

"I'd really like to spend Christmas with you, and Rosie's really excited."

"Well that's settled then. Now on your feet, Mr. Whitlock. I think I need another push over here."

The sun begins to set, and we decide to head back to his house and our studying. His ruddy cheeks are the only sign of how chilly the air has gotten between the wind and the dimming afternoon light. I'm probably a mirror image, but I won't feel it until I'm home and sitting still. I'm numb with the afterglow of such an easy, lighthearted afternoon together.

We walk hand in hand, in peaceful silence, until he sees Garrett sitting on the front steps of his porch. His hand tightens around mine, and I feel the tension move up his arm.

"What's wrong?" Jasper asks as we rush up the sidewalk. "Where's Rosie? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, relax," Garrett answers, holding his hands up in front of him in a calming gesture. "She's inside. I wanted to wait for you out here… I thought you should see it first."

"See what?" Jasper asks.

"I got this in the mail today."

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Jasper. Jasper's name is hand-written across the front, with no stamps or address, and I watch as his face goes pale and his eyes harden. My heart beats faster as he turns, collapsing into a seat on the steps. Garrett sits next to him, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. Jasper opens the letter with tense hands, as if he's straining not to crush it. His brow furrows as he reads the words, his face gradually sinking into a familiar emptiness. I sink to my knees in between his, my hands resting on his thighs.

"Jasper?" I whisper.

Silence.

"It's from her, isn't it?" I ask, turning to Garrett. He nods grimly.

"I didn't read it," he explains. "It was inside a second envelope addressed to me at my office."

I turn back to Jasper, running my hands up and down his legs soothingly. He doesn't appear to be reading anymore, but his eyes are still vacantly staring at the page in front of them.

"Jasper?" I say, a little louder this time. I reach one hand up to cup his cheek, and he flinches slightly before he looks up. He brings one hand up to cover mine, and my heart settles. "Are you okay?"

He nods.

"She says she can't forget about me."

**–*–*–**

_**September 25, 1997 (Jasper is 10, Rosie is 4)**_

_I sat on the front steps of my school, wondering if she had forgotten about me again. It was getting late, and the principal was sitting with me to keep me company. All of the other kids had already left with their parents. I tried to call her, but she didn't answer the phone. _

_If I'd had my bike I would have ridden home, but it's a long walk and I was worried she'd show up and be upset I wasn't here. The first time she forgot to pick me up was last spring, and I was too embarrassed to sit and wait after all the other moms had already left with their kids. I started walking home, and she pulled up next to me when I was about halfway there. She was really mad and said that I'd scared her. She was crying. She wanted to know what I'd been thinking and why I hadn't just waited where I was supposed to. I got in a lot of trouble, but she hadn't forgotten to pick me up since that day. _

_I just hoped she hadn't left Rosie at preschool. She still hadn't done that yet._

"_Mr. Whitlock, are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride home? Maybe there was a misunderstanding," Mr. Greene asked for about the tenth time since we'd been sitting there._

"_Thank you, sir, but I don't have a key to the house," I lied. "I'm sure she'll be here soon. You don't have to wait with me. I'll be fine by myself."_

"_Don't be silly. Of course I'll wait with you."_

_I sighed and turned away, resting my elbows on my knees. My fingers were drumming on my arm like they always did when I was nervous. I didn't want him to stay with me, but every time I told him to leave, he said no. I was glad he was such a nice principal and everything, but he couldn't take a hint. I couldn't tell him why I wanted him to leave, though, or she'd get in trouble. I was scared she'd been drinking. I was really scared that he would notice. If he noticed, he'd start asking questions that I didn't know how to answer. _

_She wasn't like that very often, but what if that was why she was late? What if she got too close, and he smelled it? I always could. What if she'd gotten into an accident like Dad? What if Rosie was with her? I started panicking. I felt like I couldn't breathe all the way in. It was almost like at my dad's funeral, when everything was blurry and my chest hurt like an elephant was sitting on it. I wasn't just sad or worried, though. I was angry._

_She needed to be more careful, especially when she was with Rosie. She knew what happened to Dad, and I didn't know what would happen to us if she died, too. I guessed we could go stay with our grandparents, but I didn't really even know them. We hadn't seen them since that day at the funeral, and Mom told us to forget about them. She said they didn't want to know us when Dad was alive, and that wasn't going to change once he was gone. They loved him and not us. _

"_Are you okay, Jasper? You look like you've seen a ghost."_

"_I'm fine, sir. I'm just worried about my mom. She's not usually so late. What time is it?"_

"_It's ten-to-five."_

_Great. School was out an hour and a half ago. She wasn't just late. She'd definitely forgotten about me._

"_Are you sure you weren't supposed to ride the bus today? Or maybe a ride with a friend?"_

"_It's Friday, isn't it? She always picks me up on Fridays."_

"_Yes. Friday, the twenty-fifth."_

"_The – the twenty-fifth?"_

"_Yes. Of September. Do you think that's why she isn't here?"_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_I know what today is, Jasper," he said. He put his hand on my shoulder, like that was supposed to make me feel better or make what he was talking about hurt less. "Your father died two years ago."_

"_I remember. I just wasn't thinking," I mumbled. _

_Of course. I'd been thinking about this day every day for the last month at least. Really, ever since my birthday. Since he died, my birthday was more like the beginning of a countdown. Mom got sadder every day. Last year, on the first anniversary, it was really bad. She hurt me that day, and even though it hadn't happened since, I hadn't forgotten. She said it was an accident, and I wanted to believe her, but I was always scared that she'd do it again._

"_Do you have a headache?" Mr. Green asked. I was confused for a minute, but then I realized that I had my hand on that spot on my head. I moved it quickly and shook my head._

"_No, I'm okay. I was just thinking."_

"_I know it must be a hard day for you and your family. If you need to talk about it, I'd like to help you." He looked at me like he felt sorry for me. I hated that. I shook my head again and turned away. "Or if you'd rather talk to one of the counselors, we can set that up for Monday. There are people here to help you and take care of you, Jasper. Don't forget about that."_

"_Thank you, sir, but I'm okay. I just want to go home."_

_I couldn't believe I'd forgotten what day it was. I'd been nervous every day for the last month, wondering if something bad was going to happen like last year. It was so different, though. Last year, she forgot to wake up to take us to school, so we stayed home all day. I made us toast with jelly for breakfast. She got mad because I spilled some milk. This year, Mom was in such a good mood when we woke up, and it was just like any normal day. She made us pancakes for breakfast, and we sang along to Rosie's favorite CD in the car. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and ruffled her hand in my hair before I got out of the car. I almost forgot my lunch, but she chased me up to the front steps of the school with it. She said to have a good day at school. I did._

_I wondered if she had forgotten what day it was, too. Or maybe she was just trying to make me forget. I didn't want to forget everything. He was gone, and I couldn't forget that. I wanted to remember him. I hoped it didn't make him sad that I went the whole day without remembering him. I hoped that he would be happy that I wasn't sad all day. I hoped he remembered me._

"_Is that her?" Mr. Greene asked._

_I looked where he was pointing, and saw my mom's car pulling up. I smiled and jumped to my feet, pulling on my backpack. She got out and came running up the sidewalk toward me._

"_Jasper, baby, I'm so sorry!" she said, leaning down to hug me tightly. She kissed both my cheeks and looked all over my face, like she was trying to make sure I was all there. "Mr. Greene, thank you so much for staying with him. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. I got held up at an appointment."_

"_It's no trouble at all," he said. "I was more than happy to stay. I'm glad you made it."_

"_You ready to go, baby? Garrett's at home with Rosie, and I made cupcakes to celebrate."_

_I nodded, and we said goodbye to Mr. Greene. She held my hand as we walked to the car._

"_What are we celebrating?" I asked once we were in the car. I thought it was a little weird to be having a party. Maybe she really had forgotten._

"_We're celebrating because we're here. We're together and alive, and even though I miss your dad every day, I have you. That should be enough to make me happy, right? So we're going to have a party tonight. I made marble cupcakes."_

"_His favorite," I said._

"_Your favorite, too."_

"_When you didn't come, I thought you'd forgotten about me."_

"_I could never forget about you, sweetheart. You're all I have left."_

_She looked at me, and I knew she really hadn't forgotten at all. She looked just as sad as she did yesterday. I didn't know what to do to make her happy again, but I was going to keep trying._

_

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	14. Agitation

"**A photograph is neither taken nor seized by force. It offers itself up. It is the photo that takes you. One must not take photos."**

– **Henri Cartier-Bresson**

**

* * *

**

Our road trip to Dallas is an entertaining event. Rosie controls the music from the back seat, throwing in a song intended to make Jasper squirm every so often. She laughs as she watches him try not to react, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. I see the edge of his grin, though, and he shakes his head minutely at her teasing. I slide one hand up his forearm, prying his hand from the steering wheel and holding it between us. He flashes a smile at me before turning back to the road, squeezing my hand gently. He seems oblivious to the music for the rest of the drive, instead letting his thumb tickle my hand with soft circles.

Charlie is all smiles and welcoming hugs when we arrive, and I can tell he's excited to have a full house for the holidays. He wasn't able to take another full week off, but he at least has Christmas Eve and Christmas morning off this year. He carries Rosie's bag upstairs and down the hall to the guest room, and she follows him. Jasper carries mine to my bedroom, setting it down by the door before walking around to check everything out.

"Calculus award?" he asks, pointing to my bookshelf and arching an eyebrow at me.

"What? Do my math skills intimidate you?"

"No, I just didn't peg you for the math dork type."

"Watch who you're calling a math dork, buddy," I laugh, pushing him until he falls back on my bed. I move to sit next to him, and he puts his arm securely around my waist, pulling me to him.

"I think it's cute that you're smarter than me," he whispers, his chin on my shoulder. "Even if that makes you a math dork."

"I'm not a math dork. I'm a photography student, just like you."

"You're a photography student who won the calculus award in high school. I think that makes you a math dork."

"So, Jasper, you'll be staying in my office down the hall on the foldout couch. It's down the hall, next to my bedroom. Down the hall," Charlie interrupts, sending Jasper shooting to his feet. His sudden movement leaves me struggling not to fall off the end of the bed.

"Um, yes sir. I was just, um, Bella was showing me her room. I didn't think I was – I mean of course I'm not staying in here." His voice trails off, and he laughs uncomfortably. Charlie tries not to smile, but his mustache twitches, giving him away.

"He knows that, he's just trying to be funny," I say, glaring at Charlie. "I'll show you where you're sleeping."

We spend the next few days relaxing and enjoying each other's company. Jasper and Rosie help me decorate the house, and Rosie helps Charlie with his Christmas shopping, since he's hopeless. The night before Christmas Eve, Jasper and I leave Charlie and Rosie with a pizza and a stack of movies before heading out to Deep Ellum. A few of my high school friends had mentioned meeting up at Adair's for burgers and beers, and while a mini high school reunion doesn't sound fantastic, Jasper insists that he'd like to meet them.

"Just watch out for Lauren," I say as we're walking down Commerce Street. "She's a sweet girl, but very hands-on and flirty when she's been drinking. She'll be the first blonde to say hello to you, mark my words."

Jasper stops walking, holding tight to my hand so I stop too. When I turn to face him, he's smirking at me incredulously.

"My lady, are you… jealous?" he laughs.

"I'm not _jealous_; I'm just warning you. Five bucks says she'll goose you if she gets the chance."

"Uh huh, is that all it is?" he asks, arching an eyebrow accusingly.

"I mean it's not like I'd be happy to see her all over you," I say defensively. "You're mine, cowboy, like it or not."

"You're cute when you're jealous," he says, smiling. He pulls me close to kiss the tip of my nose, and I giggle unabashedly. "Lucky for you, this gentleman prefers brunettes."

"That's the best news I've heard all day. Now come on, let's get this over with."

One hour later, I'm five dollars richer, and Jasper is nursing a possibly bruised left cheek. We're tucked in a corner booth, and Jasper's adding our names to the layers of graffiti on the walls. The look of concentration on his face over something so silly is adorable, and I smile as I watch him.

But then there's a body in the booth next to mine, and an arm around my shoulders that doesn't belong to Jasper. He's looking quizzically at the new arrival, but I can see the tension behind his questioning look. I try to shrug the arm from around my shoulders, but its owner is persistent.

"What are you doing here, Tyler?"

"Come on, Bells, is that any way to greet an old friend? I'm here to see some of the old gang, just like you. Who's your friend, here?"

"This is my –"

"Her boyfriend, Jasper Whitlock. It's nice to meet you, Tyler." Jasper reaches a hand out to Tyler, forcing him to remove his arm from my shoulders. When he does, I slide closer to the wall. They shake hands a little longer than necessary, and it looks like quite the death grip. Boys.

"It's nice to meet you, Jasper. I hope you're treating my girl right."

"I'm not your girl, Tyler."

"That was your choice, not mine."

"Exactly. My choice."

"I didn't come over here to start a fight, Bells. I just wanted to say hi. I've missed seeing you around."

He looks at me with pleading eyes, and I try to see past the pain and frustration of our failed relationship. I try to see the friend he once was to me and the happy times we shared before it all went pear-shaped. I can't, though. He clouded every good impression I'd had of him the day he told me not to go.

Jasper seems to sense my struggle and offers me an out. "May I have this dance?" The jukebox in the corner is playing Waylon Jennings, and I take his hand from across the table.

"I'm sorry, Tyler. It's good to see you, but I'm here with Jasper."

He nods, defeated, and slides out of the booth. "I'm still sorry, Bells. I'm sorry for everything. I should have known better. I just didn't want to say goodbye. I bet this guy would have done the same." He gestures to Jasper.

"No, he wouldn't. I forgave you a long time ago, but that doesn't change anything. I just can't look at you the same way. Maybe that's not fair to you, but that's just the way I feel."

Jasper leads me out to the dance floor, and once his arms are around me I feel at peace again. I lean my head on his chest, enjoying the feel of him against me as we sway in slow circles around the floor. I smile to myself, because the man holding me is so different. He's more to me, and I feel like he makes me more in return.

"Do you mind if I ask what that was all about?" he asks quietly.

"That was Tyler Crowley. He was my boyfriend through junior and senior years."

"So… pretty serious, then?"

"Yeah you could say that. I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me."

"What happened?"

"When it came time to decide on colleges, he thought I was going to stay here and go to SMU with him. I wanted to be on my own, and he wanted me with him. I wanted to study photography, and he said I needed to get my head out of the clouds. He told me he loved me, but it was suddenly clear that he didn't even know me. He was dismissive of everything I wanted. He started talking about forever, but at seventeen it wasn't a forever I wanted any part of, and he didn't know me well enough to understand that."

"And at twenty-two?"

I pull away enough to meet his eyes steadily with mine. He's trying to be subtle, but it sounds like he's talking about more than my history with Tyler.

"I'm open to forever, but not with him. I need someone who wants to be my equal, not my keeper. I want someone who understands me… someone who sees all of me and doesn't turn away."

"I do, too."

"I thought I loved Tyler, but I realize now that I was young. He was my first real boyfriend, my first everything. I thought I knew what love was, but now I'm not so sure. Even at its best, it was never like this… with you. It's never been like this for me."

"Me either. I've never wanted someone the way I want you. I've always felt like I was waiting for something – like something was missing – but I never knew what. I think maybe it was you."

The voice in my head is screaming at me to say it, and I want to. I want to tell him that I love him, and that I've never loved anyone else. I want to tell him that I wish I'd never said the words before, because before now they weren't true. I want to tell him that, at twenty-two, the only forever I see is with him. Instead I choke on the words, and I have no idea why.

"I've been waiting for you, too," I whisper and lean my head against his chest once more. His arms hold me tight, and I relax into our embrace.

The song changes, and Jasper's feet slow and then stop. His arms tighten around me, and I stiffen as he does. It's not Elvis this time, but the words are the same and that's all that matters. They steal our quiet moment of happiness and squeeze it until it's all tension and bitter memories. I pull back until I can see his face, sliding my hands up to hold his neck gently. His eyes are empty, his skin clammy, his pulse erratic. I force myself to stay calm.

"Jasper," I whisper soothingly, running my fingers along his skin. "Jasper, it's okay. I'm here with you. You're safe. Come back to me."

His grip on my waist slowly relaxes, and his eyes search for mine. He smiles weakly.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize to me for. This isn't your fault."

"I'm pretty sure these little episodes are mood-killers," he laughs dismissively. "You shouldn't have to deal with this… all these complications."

"Is that what you think you are to me? A complication? Don't do that. Don't try and tell me what's good for me. If I wanted simple – if I wanted easy – I could find it. Hell, call Tyler back over here. I'm sure he'd be willing."

Jasper cringes at that, shaking his head. "I don't want that; you know I don't."

"Then trust me to know what I want. I know you're worried, but I like to think I know what's best for me. Losing you isn't. I don't care how hard we have to work or how slow we have to go. You make me happy, like no one else. I know you have doubts, and maybe you're not ready for all of this, but I can be patient. I think this might be worth it."

His hand makes its way to the space beneath my ear, along my jaw, and his fingers work their way into my hair. I lean into his touch, willing my eyes to hold his gaze instead of fluttering shut.

"God, Bella, I might have doubts, but never about you. Sometimes I wonder if maybe your life would be easier without me and all of my baggage. But at this point, I'm entirely too selfish to walk away."

"Well that's a good thing, because I told you once and I'll say it again: I'm not going to watch you walk away from me."

His answering grin is lopsided and relieved. I grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling down as I stand tall. His lips meet mine softly, sweetly, and I can still taste his smile.

"You ready to go home?" he whispers against me.

"Not yet, I'm kissing you," I answer, and my lips find his again.

**–*–*–**

_**September 25, 2004 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 11)**_

_I sat alone at the kitchen table, listening to the clock tick the seconds away. It was almost one in the morning, and she still wasn't home. An hour ago I'd sat alone and watched the hands of the clock strike midnight. It had been nine years. Nine years since he died. Nine years since my mother fell apart. Nine years since I started learning how to pick up the pieces. _

_Rosie was spending the night at Tanya's house. She'd done the same on the anniversary of his death every year for the last three years. Mom was pretty much guaranteed to go on a bender, and things were much simpler when I didn't have to worry about Rosie. Mom could yell, cry, or throw things until she passed out, and I didn't have to remember to hide Rosie in the closet or make sure she wore headphones to bed. I just had to stay out of the way._

_The phone rang, breaking my train of thought. _

"_Hello?"_

"_Is this Jasper Whitlock?" an unfamiliar voice asked._

"_Yes, sir."_

"_My name's Mike and I'm the bartender over at Lala's in Allendale," he explained. Fuck. "I have your mom here, and she's not looking too good. She keeps playing the same song over and over again on the jukebox, and the other customers are starting to complain."_

"_Elvis?"_

"_Yeah! Dude, how'd you know? Anyway I told her I was either cutting her off or taking her keys, and she said to call you to come pick her up."_

"_I'm so sorry, Mike. I'll be there in ten to get her."_

"_Sure thing, kid. We'll be here. I've got her keys behind the bar."_

"_Thanks, man."_

_When I walked into the bar, I almost laughed when I looked around. It was Christmas in September, with lights and garlands strung from the walls and a decorated tree in the corner. The patrons were an odd mix of ages, from college students to the elderly. Two old men were playing checkers over beers at a corner table in the back. Then I heard the song playing on the jukebox in the corner, and I saw her._

_She was standing by herself in the middle of the room, swaying slowly to her favorite song. She looked miserable. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her cheeks were wet with tears, her face tilted up to the ceiling. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest. She was probably trying to imagine they belonged to him._

_I walked over and laid a hand carefully on her shoulder. I wasn't sure how she'd react to seeing me. She opened her eyes, and my heart broke a little at the pain I saw there. She reached out to fall into my arms, and I let her. We stood in the middle of the room, hugging each other and turning circles on the spot. She sniffled against me, and I rubbed her back. After a few songs, I decided it was time to head home. _

"_You ready to go?" I asked._

"_Not yet, please. I'm dancing."_

"_Come on, Mom. Let's go home. It's almost closing time anyway."_

_She gave in and pointed me to her purse at the bar. Mike tossed me the keys to her car and I settled her tab. She went to pick up the drink sitting next to her purse, and I tried to pull it away from her._

"_I thought Mike cut you off already. You've had enough."_

"_Don't tell me I've had enough. He said I couldn't drive and I'm not driving. Give me my drink back."_

"_You can hardly walk straight. Let go of the drink."_

_She turned to glare up at me before shoving the drink in my face. Before I could react, I had cranberry juice and vodka soaking through my t-shirt. I pulled the glass away and slammed it onto the bar, picking up her purse and dragging her out to the car behind me. The ride home was tense and silent._

_She leaned heavily on me as I led her into the house, depositing her in a chair at the kitchen table while I went to make her some tea. Once the kettle was on the stove, I pulled my shirt off and filled the sink with water to soak it so the juice wouldn't stain. I went to sit with her at the table. I didn't know how to say what was on my mind, but I had to give it a try. _

"_Mom? I think we need to talk."_

"_I just want to go to bed, Jasper," she whispered. She was rubbing her temples forcefully._

"_No, we need to talk. I know you don't want to hear it, but I need to say it."_

"_Say what?" I could tell she was getting exasperated. She was slurring her words, and it probably wasn't the best time to be talking about this. She might not even remember the conversation in the morning. Somehow that thought gave me the courage to go on._

"_I think you need some help… I mean, I know you do. I want you to try going back to AA and seeing a shrink. I know you didn't think it helped before, but maybe if you just gave it some time__,__ maybe if you really tried this time it would –"_

"_You don't think I'm trying?" she snapped. "I'm trying as hard as I can. You don't understand what it's like."_

_I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I responded. I was so close to yelling at her. It was always the same excuses, and I was getting sick of them. Especially given the date, it would have been nice if she'd remembered that she wasn't the only one who'd lost him. I could hear the tea kettle on the stove starting to steam and bubble; it was almost ready._

"_I know I don't," I said, pleading with her, "but maybe somebody does. Maybe there's someone who's been through this and will know what to say. I don't know what to do anymore. I know I'm not doing anything right, but I just don't know how to fix this."_

"_No one is going to understand, and I don't need to be 'fixed.' I don't want to forget about him. I don't want to get over this. I just want him back."_

_I opened my mouth to respond, but the kettle had started whistling furiously. I went to get her a mug, dumping a tea bag in the bottom and pouring the boiling water over it. I set it in front of her, but stayed standing instead of going back to my seat._

"_I know you don't want to forget about him, and I know you want him back. But he's never coming back, Mom, can't you understand that? He's gone, and you're here, and there's nothing you can do about that. It's time to move on."_

_She glared up at me, and I knew I had gone too far. She moved before I could react, jumping to her feet and tossing the mug full of boiling water at me. It spread over my chest and shoulder, scalding my skin in its path. I staggered backward to the sink, turning to rip my t-shirt out of the water and throwing it onto my chest. The boiling water was gone, but my skin continued to burn. I dunked the t-shirt back into the cool water and slapped it back onto my chest, trying desperately to soothe the pain. I was panting and angry when I finally turned back to face her, and this time she didn't look remorseful. She still looked furious._

"_Don't you dare speak that way about your father," she screamed._

"_I'm just telling you the truth, and I'm really fucking sorry if you don't want to hear it, but you're going to have to listen at some point. If you keep fucking things up you're not going to have anything left."_

_I tried to storm past her, but she blocked me from the doorway._

"_Where are you going? Are you just going to run away from me now?" she sobbed. "You're just going to leave me like this? Huh? Go run away and find yourself a better mommy? Someone who isn't so fucked up? That way you wouldn't have to deal with me anymore. Would that make you happy?"_

"_If I could walk away from you right now, I would. If I thought for one minute that I could get away from you, and be able to take Rosie with me, I'd already be gone. And you know what's ironic? If you and dad hadn't raised me the way you did, I would have said fuck all of this a long time ago. I would have left you… I would have left Rosie. I would be gone and alone and fucking happy about it. But I promised my father I'd take care of Rosalie, and I can't walk away from her. I don't care what you do to me. When I go, I'm taking her with me."_

"_You wouldn't dare take my daughter from me. What the hell gives you the right?"_

"_What gives me the right? This gives me the fucking right!" I yelled, pointing to the blisters forming across my chest. "And this," I said, raising my fist so she could see the faded scars there. "Or how about this one?" I asked, pointing to the cigarette burn on my neck. "Or maybe you forgot about the happiest fucking New Year of my life," I laughed, turning to show her the scars laced across the skin of my back. "Every one of these gives me the right to save her from you, and one day soon you're going to watch me do it. We both know she'd be better off without you."_

"_Why are you doing this?" she cried, tears running down her cheeks. "Why are you telling me this now?"_

"_Because you're so fucking drunk right now, you're not going to remember one word of this conversation tomorrow," I snapped. "The same way you forget all the other fucked up things you've ever done to me."_

_She raised her hand to slap me, but for once I didn't flinch or turn away. Her hand flew forward through the air, stopping abruptly when I grabbed her by the wrist. I felt the anger burn as it raced through my veins. I had never felt so alive or so fucking close to losing control. I felt more powerful than I had ever felt before. For a minute, I wished I could forget who I was, what I stood for, and the consequences I would face later. I wanted to fucking hit her. I wanted to hit her harder than I had ever wanted to hit anything or anyone in my life. _

"_Are you going to hit me back, Jasper?" she whispered. "I know you think I deserve it."_

_And then I looked into my mother's eyes, and I saw __**her**__. Rosie. Their eyes were the same color and shape, but it was more than just that. I had seen that same mixture of desperation, sadness, and pain in my own sister's eyes. I saw that every time she saw a new cut, bruise, or burn on my body. I saw it that night when she took care of me after the belt. I saw it every day that we walked in the front door to find our mom on the couch with a bottle of vodka. I saw it every fucking time that Elvis came on the radio and we rushed to change the station. Every time I had to sit on the floor and coax her out of the closet – because each time, it took just a little bit longer – that was the hurt I saw in Rosie's eyes. My mother put it there, and I had spent the last nine years of my life trying to get rid of it. I wanted to be more than that._

"_I will never be like you." I spat, and I dropped her arm as if her skin had burned mine._

_She crumpled to the floor, shaking with sobs, and for once I didn't comfort her. I left her in a heap on the kitchen floor, and I went and locked myself in my room. I sat on the floor up against the door and listened to her cry. It didn't stop for twenty-seven minutes. I left the door once to go vomit in the trash can next to my desk. I was ashamed of myself. I'd never thought there was a hint of her anger inside of me, but I had come so close to being no better than she was. I had been seconds away from snapping. If not for Rosie, I would have. _

_The heels of my hands dug into my eyes as I tried to rub away the image of her lying on the floor. I was disgusted with myself for leaving her that way. I'd worked so hard to be everything that she wasn't, and I'd failed miserably. I didn't want to be the kind of person who could sit by and watch his own mother suffer, despite what she'd done to me. She was sick and depressed, and she needed more help than I could give her. I couldn't leave her that way._

_I stood and reached for the doorknob, ready to go back and pick up the pieces. Before I could, I heard her shuffling to her room. She wasn't crying, but I could hear her sniffling. I waited for a moment and heard the door to her room close before turning away and collapsing into bed. I turned my head to the side, taking in Rosie's empty bed. I was happy that she hadn't been home to hear our fight. Everything I said was true. It would have been so simple to give in and take the easy way out of this mess like she had. I could have given in to the voices telling me it wasn't my problem. I could have hit her back, and probably harder than she'd ever hit me. I wasn't a little kid anymore. I could hurt her. _

_I just couldn't hurt Rosie. I wasn't my mother, and I was determined to be better than that. She might have robbed me of my childhood, but I wasn't going to stand by and let her ruin Rosie's too. She was better than all of us, and she deserved to have everything I could give her. I had to stay focused. I only had ten months left._

_I rolled over to switch on the light and reached under my bed for my notebook. I hadn't shown it to anyone, not even Rosie. It held all my plans for our future. I kept track of every single time our mom had been drunk, every time she'd flaked out or neglected us, and every time she'd laid a finger on me. I wrote down every penny I'd earned and saved, and made lists of everything we'd need to survive on our own. When the time came, I had to be ready. _

_I opened to my favorite page and pulled out a pencil. I'd been playing around with the sketch for months, but it still wasn't quite there. The compass rose was right, but there was something missing – something to hold it together. I stared at it for hours every week, tracing over the rose again and again. When I looked up at my alarm clock, it was nearly four in the morning. I closed my notebook and slid it back into its hiding place. Before I turned off the light, I decided to go check on my mom._

_I tiptoed down the hallway to her room, opening her door as stealthily as I could manage. She was in her usual position: curled around her body pillow on the very edge of her side of the bed, as if she needed to be as far away from the emptiness beside her as possible. It took her a long time to be able to sleep in the bed without him at all. _

_I walked over to her and pulled the blankets back up to her shoulders, leaning in and kissing her head. _

"_I'm so sorry, Mom," I whispered._

_She almost looked peaceful in her sleep, and I wondered if she was dreaming of him. I wondered if he would have done better. He would've been able to comfort her the right way and make all her nightmares go away. He would have been able to fix this. He would've known exactly what to say and how to hold her, just like he did when her parents died. He'd been able to bring her back that time. But I wasn't him. I didn't ever say or do the right things. I let her hurt me and I did my best to comfort her, but it wasn't enough. He never would have lost his temper with her like I had in the kitchen. She probably wouldn't remember it. I wanted to make her listen, but she wasn't in any kind of shape to hear it. I didn't know how to reach her. Not like he did. But he was gone, long gone, and he couldn't reach her anymore either._

_

* * *

_

**Anyone need a hug? I have a very short JPOV outtake that goes with the BPOV in this chapter, so let me know if you'd like to see it. Thank you so much for reading. :)**

**Thank you as always to justaskalice and staceygirl aka jackbauer for being fantastic betas, and to Lucette21 for prereading and commenting. **

**There are a few bits of info up on my livejournal page: daisy3853(dot)livejournal(dot)com. Also, I posted the crackfic I wrote for Haiti relief, and you can find that under my profile. It's Jasper/Bella ridiculousness.  
**


	15. Vignetting

"**Photography records the gamut of feelings written on the human face, the beauty of the earth and skies that man has inherited, and the wealth and confusion man has created. It is a major force in explaining man to man."**

– **Edward Steichen**

"Are they ready _now_?" Jasper asks, and I laugh at his impatience. He's asked different versions of the same question for the last hour. I shake my head as I slide the hot baking sheet onto the top of the stove.

"No, Jasper. What are you, like five?" Rosie answers for me. "They're ready when Bella says they're ready."

I hear him let out his breath in a huff, and he goes back to chopping the pecans I gave him, a little more forcefully than before.

"I'm not five; I'm hungry," he mumbles.

"They're almost ready so just relax," I say, turning to face him. "They just have to cool a little before I roll them in the sugar. If you don't stop being so impatient, you're going to burn your tongue."

He stiffens slightly, his face goes blank, and his eyes wander. I walk over to him, sliding my hands gently along his cheeks and into the hair at his temples.

"Jasper?" I whisper.

His hands move to cover mine, and when his eyes meet mine they're clear and bright once more.

"I just want to try one," he pouts. Rosie sighs, rolling her eyes over the gifts she's wrapping at the kitchen table.

I grab a spatula and slide one of the cookies into a bowl of powdered sugar, tossing it around gently with the tips of my fingers so I don't burn myself. They're Charlie's favorite Mexican Wedding Cookies – little balls of shortbread and pecans rolled in powdered sugar. They're slightly messy but delicious in their simplicity, and Christmas is never Christmas without them in our house. I smile to myself, remembering trails of crumbs and powdered sugar that "Santa" painstakingly left between the empty plate of cookies and the fireplace.

"Here you go, you big baby," I tease, carrying a cookie over with one hand, my other hand underneath to catch the dusting of powdered sugar left behind. He turns to Rosie, sticking his tongue out petulantly.

"Congrats, dork. Now you really are five," she laughs. "I'm going to look for more tape."

She pops him lightly on the back of his head on her way out of the kitchen, and when he turns to me his eyes are bright, his smile wide. I'd expected him to be melancholy or distant after his episode last night, but he's been surprisingly upbeat all day. It's Christmas Eve, and we've spent the morning baking and wrapping presents while Charlie works. I keep catching Jasper staring me, his expression unreadable. I want to understand the secrets behind his eyes and easy smile, but I'm hesitant to spoil such a happy day with probing questions. I'm trying to be patient enough to wait for him to say what's on his mind in his own time.

I hold the cookie out to him and he takes it gratefully, biting off half before holding the other half to my lips. I open my mouth to take a bite, but instead of playing fair, he swipes the cookie along my lip, leaving a trail of powdered sugar in its wake.

"Whoops," he says, smirking. "You've got something… right there."

His fingertip traces the outline of my lip, his eyes following its path with heavy intensity. He leans in slowly, replacing his finger with his lips. I taste the hints of sweetness between us and smile against him.

"That was a dirty trick," I murmur as I pull away.

"I was an accident!" he says, raising his hands in surrender.

"Uh huh. Do I look that gullible?"

"Actually, you look really beautiful today."

I open my mouth to retort, but he's smiling so sweetly, and his compliment caught me off-guard. Instead I smile and kiss him again. He pulls away hesitantly when he hears Rosie's footsteps getting closer.

"Jasper, where's your present for Charlie?" she asks, seemingly oblivious to the scene she just barely missed. "I need to wrap it before he gets home."

"It's in my room. I'll be right back." He squeezes my hand gently and smiles before jogging upstairs.

"Bella? You've got a little sugar right there," she says, pointing to the corner of my mouth.

"Oh! Thanks," I say, brushing my lip off hastily. "Those cookies are a little messy."

"Don't play coy with me, missy. You're totally busted," she laughs. "Jasper has some on his mouth, too. You should probably help him out with that; he'll get embarrassed if I point it out."

"Very perceptive. I'm impressed."

"Oh, please. First of all, I'm sixteen, not six. Beyond that, you two aren't nearly as stealthy as you think you are. It's sort of adorable, actually."

"So it doesn't… bother you… or anything? I know he's worried about upsetting you sometimes."

"I'm a big girl, Bella. It's nice to see him happy and affectionate like that. I don't mind at all." She pauses, raising her eyebrow at me, and I almost laugh at how much she looks like her brother with that gesture. "That being said, he _is_ my brother. I have my limits."

We're both laughing when Jasper walks back into the kitchen, a large flat box under his arm.

"You girls didn't take long to start making fun of me, did you?"

"Not everything is about you, brother dear," Rosie says, sighing dramatically.

"Is that Charlie's?" I ask, gesturing to the box.

"Yeah, Rosie's going to wrap it for me. I keep wrinkling the paper."

"Can I see it first?"

He hesitates for a moment, glancing at Rosalie who offers him a reassuring nod.

"Okay, but it's a little embarrassing. Please don't laugh."

"I'm not going to laugh at you, Jasper. Let me see."

He hands me the box, and I take a seat at the kitchen table to open it. I lift open the lid, unfolding the layers of crinkly white tissue beneath. My eyes fall on a black and white photograph framed in an antiqued gilt frame. The photo itself looks as if it's from another era, with the slightest bit of sepia tone enhanced by the champagne color of the frame. A girl with long, wavy brown hair is laughing, her head tipped back toward the sky. The sunlight falls across her softly, accenting her beauty with its warm glow. The scene around her is slightly blurry with panning motion, and her hands grip tightly to the chains of the swing. She looks so happy and full of life, and I don't even remember him taking the picture.

"It's just something I thought he might like," he mumbles quietly. When our eyes meet, mine are shining slightly with emotion and his are nervous and questioning.

"It's… it's me," I stutter, entirely overcome by the gesture.

"It's beautiful. Of course it's you. Do you… do you think he'll like it?"

"He'll love it," I assure him, watching his grin light up his face. "I love it."

The afternoon and evening pass quickly by, and snow begins to fall outside the cozy warmth of our kitchen. It's the first white Christmas in Dallas since something ridiculous like the 1920s, and the festive atmosphere it adds is palpable. Rosie stares out the kitchen window with a smile on her face, watching the snow fall in swirling flurries. I don't remember ever seeing it snow like this before, and I can hardly wipe the grin off my face. Charlie comes home, stomping the powder off his boots and quickly swiping two cookies from the plate out on the counter. We settle in for tamales, rice, and beans: our Christmas Eve tradition.

After dinner, Jasper asks me to go for a walk with him. We put on our hats and gloves, and Jasper pulls my hat down securely around my ears, brushing my hair back from my eyes a little.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Definitely."

The air outside smells like snow, and I feel like a child when I tilt my head back to taste the snowflakes on my tongue. I look over at Jasper and laugh when I see him doing the same thing. He takes my hand and leads me down the slippery sidewalk and onto our front lawn. The sidewalks are iced over due to the barely freezing temperatures all day, and I'm relieved to walk in the grass where my feet are steadier. He's still looking at me the way he has been all day. Nervously? Questioningly? I can't decide. I think maybe he's looking for something, but I'm not sure what.

We walk down the block and back, holding hands and watching our breath swirl like clouds of smoke around us. Jasper stops to scoop up a few snowballs to fling at my back but gives up when his gloves get soaked through. He decides bare hands are warmer and abandons the gloves into his back pockets. I'm getting cold by the time we reach the house, and I'm relieved to see the porch coming into view. When we reach the sidewalk, Jasper grips my hand tighter, turning to face me. He's not paying attention to the ice, and before I can utter a warning, he slips. He falls backwards, pulling me with him, and we land with a resounding thud just in front of the porch steps. I feel him grunt as my weight falls upon him, and his hands move to my waist to steady me. His head leans back to the icy cement beneath us, and his eyes are screwed tightly shut. I start giggling, my body shaking both of ours.

"Jasper, you dead?" I choke out.

"Yeah. Man..." he groans.

"You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No, I think I'm okay. Only mostly dead, and maybe a little embarrassed," he laughs.

I push myself off of him carefully, finding my footing and offering him a hand to stand up. He stands, grabbing my hand again and shuffling to the porch with me. I'm still giggling slightly as I reach for the hide-a-key above the door to let us in. I unlock the door, but before I can open it I feel his hand rest tentatively on my shoulder.

"Wait, please don't go in yet. Can I try something?" He asks. I turn to face him breathlessly, a laugh still on my lips.

"Try what?"

"Last night… when we were dancing." I hesitate for a moment, gauging his expression, immediately sobered by the way he's looking at me. He appears determined and despite the outcome of our dancing last night, I want him to try again. Maybe without the music, this time the moment won't be ruined with a reminder of his mother. "Please let me do this, Bella." I nod, smiling.

He unbuttons his coat, and I smile as he reaches for my hand, twirling me once before pulling me into his arms. He holds my hand against his chest, his heart. His other hand slips past my coat and just under the hem of my shirt, holding me close. His fingers send a chill up my spine, and not just because of the cold. His ruddy cheeks and bright eyes are subtle reminders of the wintry scene surrounding us, and my cheeks sting from the bitterness of the cold and wetness of the snow. The over-sized snowflakes fall in feather-light flurries around us, and the porch is dark save for the gentle glow of Christmas lights wound around the railing. The tiny points of light catch and flicker in Jasper's eyes as I look into them.

I slide my arm inside his coat and around to his back, laying my cheek against his chest as we start to spin in slow, wide circles. He leans down and brushes his lips against my ear, his cheek against mine. My eyes slide shut when he starts singing softly in my ear, his voice barely a whisper. I sway with him, soaking up the feel of him against my skin and the sound of him in my head and in my heart. He surrounds me and fills me, and I'm entirely lost in the moment.

"I meant what I said last night, Bella. It's too late for me to walk away from you."

"I don't want you to."

"What do you want?"

"You. I want all of you," I breathe, pausing to steel myself for my next words. I know that this is the moment, and if he doesn't say it, I'm going to. I hope he's ready to hear it, because I don't think I can fight the words any longer. "What do you want?"

He pauses, breathing deeply, and I can't bring myself to look at him to see what he's thinking.

"You. I want you every day. I – I want you to love me." He whispers the last words, as if he's afraid I'll hear them. I still in his arms, lifting my face to meet his gaze, my eyes shining and a smile forming on my lips. He takes a deep breath and says, a little more confidently, "I love you, Bella."

"I love you, too," I say, grinning as widely as I can manage before his lips steal my smile. And then we're smiling together, lips on lips, and his breath is my breath, and my heart is full and beating wildly. My hands slide up to his neck to pull him closer because as close as we are, it will never be close enough. I feel his pulse pounding frenetically beneath his skin, and mine quickens further when I feel him moving toward me. He pushes me slowly, gently, until my back is flat against one of the porch columns. His knee fits between mine, and his hands possess me. He keeps pushing as if, like me, he needs to be closer still.

His lips leave mine, trailing a path up my jaw, and I gasp for air.

"I wish I could take you home," he murmurs, his voice thick and husky.

"We're already here," I say, confused.

"No, not here. I wish I could take you home alone. I wish we weren't at your dad's house tonight."

As the meaning of his words sink in, my stomach does a cartwheel, and I nod in agreement.

"Me, too. God, me too," I laugh.

"I love you. It feels so good to say that; you have no idea."

"I think I might. I've been biting my tongue for weeks."

"Really?"

"Really. I wasn't sure if you were ready to hear it… or if you wanted to."

"I'm ready now."

"I love you."

He laughs, and it's loud and carefree and beautiful. My lips find his again, and I don't ever want to leave. The world around us fades and blurs, and all that matters is the man in front of me: his arms, his lips, his heart, and his love.

**.*.*.**

_**December 24, 1994 (Jasper is 7, Rosie is 20 months)**_

"_How much longer, Mom?" I asked. _

_The cookies smelled really good and I wanted one. She was making my favorite sugar cookies shaped like Christmas trees and candy canes, and she said after they were done we could all decorate them together. Rosie couldn't really do much but add sprinkles, but I'd frost some for her to play with. We always made them on Christmas Eve for Santa to eat when he came. He left me a letter last year about the cookies. He liked the Christmas trees the best, but he said his reindeer liked the candy canes so I still wanted to make lots of those too. I guessed they didn't like the carrots I left for them because they only ate one. My dad didn't like carrots either, so I couldn't blame them._

"_Be patient and let them cool, baby. If you eat one now you'll burn your tongue." She laughed and tapped my nose with her finger._

"_Yes, ma'am," I said, pouting. _

_She laughed and picked up a candy cane, blowing on it to cool it off. I smiled when she handed it to me and took a big bite. She was right. It was a little too hot. I pretended it wasn't, though, and she rolled her eyes at me when I tried to eat and breathe at the same time to cool my mouth off._

"_I told you they were too hot."_

"_I-nah too hah," I mumbled around my cookie. She gave me a stern look and raised one eyebrow. I gulped down the cookie and tried again. "It's not too hot."_

"_Uh huh," she said, still looking at me funny._

"_Okay, it's a little too hot," I admitted. Then I smiled. "It was worth it, though."_

"_You're so impatient, Jasper. Sometimes it's better if you wait until things are ready, you know. You won't burn your poor tongue for one thing."_

"_Are they ready now?"_

_She laughed loudly. "Five more minutes, baby. Let's finish getting the frosting ready. What colors do we need?"_

"_Green, red, white, and pink."_

"_What's the pink for?"_

"_Rosie likes pink. I want to make her a pink candy cane."_

_She smiled at me, and for a minute I thought she was going to cry. It was weird. But then she picked me up and hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe._

"_You're such a sweet boy, Jasper. I bet Rosie would love a pink candy cane."_

"_Something smells good in here," Dad called as he walked in. "Are the cookies ready yet, Mary Ella?"_

"_Mom said to stop being impatient or they'll burn your tongue, Dad. You can't have any yet."_

"_Is that what she said?" He laughed. "As it so happens, I like to live dangerously. I'm willing to risk a burned tongue for my favorite cookies."_

"_Don't eat all of the trees, Dad. Those are Santa's favorite."_

"_I would never eat all Santa's favorite cookies," he said. He looked very serious. "He'd never forgive me, and then where would we be?" _

"_No presents, that's where we'd be," I said._

"_Jasper's right, Jack. You should probably go easy on the cookies this year. You don't want to start looking like Santa."_

"_Maybe we should make Santa save all the cookies for Mrs. Claus this year," he said. He walked closer until he was right in front of her. Her back was against the counter and they were both smiling. He kissed her, and I tried not to giggle. She hugged him, but she couldn't see him reaching for the cookies behind her. He stood back and took a big bite, and she shook her head at him._

"_Honestly, Jack. You're incorrigible."_

"_What's incorrigible?" I asked._

"_It means he's acting like a little boy instead of a grownup."_

"_I like it when he acts like a little boy," I said._

"_So do I," Dad said. "Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to hang this in the other room." He held up a little green branch and Mom laughed at him._

"_You're only proving me right, you know. Incorrigible."_

"_That's true, but you love me this way."_

"_I do love you."_

_He kissed her again and stole another cookie on his way out. She was smiling when she turned to me, and she told me it was time to frost the cookies. We spent the rest of Rosie's nap decorating cookies, and when she woke up she helped us put sprinkles on some of them. I hid her special pink candy cane for her to have after dinner. She was really excited about it and got pink frosting and sprinkles all over her face._

_After dinner, we went in around the Christmas tree to open our ornaments. Mom always gave each of us a new ornament to open on Christmas Eve and hang on the tree. She and Dad gave each other hearts every year. She said next year they'd have so many that they'd have to have their own little tree for just their hearts. _

_Rosie had already gone to bed, so I went to hang my snowman and Rosie's reindeer on the tree. I saw one of Mom's old ornaments from when she was little and I pulled it off and brought it to her._

"_Mom, where did you get this one?" I asked. It was a really pretty angel with yellow hair and white sparkles on her wings._

_She smiled, but she looked sad. She reached out for the angel and I handed it to her._

"_My mommy gave me this one when I was a little girl."_

"_How old were you?"_

"_I think I was about your age. We used to open ornaments on Christmas Eve every year, too, after we got home from the Christmas pageant at church. That year I was one of the angels. My mommy made me the prettiest white gown with big wings that sparkled just like these and a halo. I felt so beautiful. She said she found this angel and had to buy it, because it looked just like her angel."_

_She started really crying then, and I looked at my dad to see what to do. He whispered that it was okay and pulled Mom into a hug. He shushed her and whispered in her ear for a long time, rubbing her back just like she rubbed mine when I was upset. She finally calmed down, and she went to sit on his lap in his big chair._

"_What happened to your mommy and daddy?" I asked. _

"_I don't really want to talk about this tonight, baby," she said. She was still sniffling a little._

"_But – Peter has four grandparents… how come I don't have any?" _

"_My parents died a long time ago," she said._

"_Jasper, please stop," Dad said. _

"_But what about Dad's mom and d –"_

"_Damnit, Jasper! I told you I didn't want to talk about this tonight. It's Christmas Eve and that means we're supposed to be happy. I don't want to talk about it."_

_She stood up and ran into the kitchen. I stood up to run after her, but my dad stopped me and patted the seat next to him. _

"_Jasper, next time your mother or I ask you to stop, you need to listen."_

"_I know, Dad. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset her. I was just wondering why we don't have family like everyone else does."_

"_Mommy's parents died before you were born… before she and I ever got married. We were young, and I loved her very much. She was very sad after they were gone. They were all she had, so when they died, she thought she was going to be all alone. She was scared."_

"_But you saved her, right?"_

"_I tried to, son. I took care of her, and I loved her, and I married her. We've been very happy together, and now we have you and your sister. We have a very happy life and a good family, but Mommy still misses her family sometimes. It's hard for her."_

"_Is your family gone, too?"_

_He didn't say anything at first. He looked at me for a long time, and I wondered if he even heard me. Then he finally sighed and answered._

"_Yes. My family is gone, too. Not like mommy's, but gone just the same. That makes both me and mommy very sad, so let's not talk about it anymore, alright?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_That's my boy. Now why don't you go get your pajamas on and then come back and give your mom a hug? We'll all pick out the cookies for Santa together."_

_I nodded and ran down the hallway to Rosie and my room. I snuck in very quietly so I wouldn't wake her up and pulled out my red Christmas pajamas. I tiptoed back down the hallway and to the kitchen and found Mom and Dad. I gave Mom a big hug and told her I was sorry for making her sad. She kissed me and said she was sorry for getting upset with me. We filled a plate full of cookies for Santa and set them on the table next to the fireplace with a glass of milk. Before I went to bed, I decided to add an apple for the reindeer in case they liked those better than carrots._

_Mom and Dad gave me a kiss, and I went down the hallway to get in bed. I was thirsty, though, so I turned around to get a glass of water from in the kitchen. Then I saw Mom and Dad._

_They were in the doorway in between the kitchen and the living room, kissing under the mistletoe. It made me smile to see them happy, but it was also a little uncomfortable to watch them kiss. I turned around and tiptoed back to my room to wait for Santa. I guessed I could be thirsty for one night._

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**Thank you for reading!**

**Love to justaskalice, staceygirl aka jackbauer, and Lucette21 for always being amazing.**


	16. Reticulation part 1

** The flashback in this chapter carries a ****warning for physical abuse****. If it's going to bring back painful memories for you or upset you, please skip ahead a little bit. That's all I've got... so hold my hand, and I'll see you on the other side.**

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"**Within every man and woman a secret is hidden, and as a photographer it is my task to reveal it if I can."**

– **Yousuf Karsh**

Jasper's hand rests comfortably on my lower back as he leads me along the darkened sidewalk up to Angela's apartment building. It's New Year's Eve, and my cheeks and lips sting from the icy-cold gusts of wind swirling around us. My hands burrow deeper into my pockets, and I tuck myself closer into his side to block the wind. We just dropped Rosalie off to spend the night with Tanya, and the knowledge that we have an empty house with no responsibilities waiting for us has me breathless with anticipation and excitement.

"You okay?" he asks, a laugh on his lips.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You just seem a little off somehow. Jumpy, maybe."

"I'm excited," I say, smiling a little too widely to be normal and hoping he doesn't notice. "I just haven't seen Ang in a long time."

"It's about time I meet her. I was starting to think you were ashamed of me or something. You've been hiding me away."

"Ha ha," I deadpan. "I haven't been hiding you, but we've all been pretty busy. I guess between everyone's work and school schedules, it's been hard to get something together. That, and I kind of like having you all to myself."

I poke him in the ribs, and he flinches, swatting my hand away playfully.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing." His lips brush against my hair, and at once I'm somehow more relaxed yet more on edge.

"I think this is it," I say as we reach the shelter of the building. "Number one-oh-four."

"Hey," he says, slowing his feet and grabbing my hand. "What do I need to know about Ben and Angela? I mean… what does she know about me? Should I be worried?"

"Of course you should be worried. She's my best friend and she's just now meeting my boyfriend who I'm in love with. You might have to keep her from hitting me or something." I laugh, but he's not amused.

"Bella, be serious, please."

"I'm being serious," I assure him. "She's been my closest friend for nearly four years. She's kind and supportive and she knows that you make me happy. She's going to love you, though hopefully not as much as I do. You already passed the Charlie test. This is going to be a piece of cake."

He smiles, kissing me quickly before we turn to head into the party.

We walk into Angela's apartment, and I smile as I take in the dim lights and dull roar of music and conversation. It's already getting crowded, full of faces I know and some that I don't. There's only one face I'm looking for, though, and I find her as Jasper helps me out of my coat. She's laughing at something Ben just whispered in her ear, but when her eyes meet mine she stops and her smile brightens. Ben follows her gaze curiously, grinning widely and waving when he sees us.

I take Jasper's hand and lead him over to meet them, squeezing gently because I know he's nervous right now. His grip tightens in return. I watch Angela's eyes move to assess Jasper quickly as we approach. I hug her tightly and she returns it in equal force, rocking back and forth with me for a moment as we giggle together. We pull apart reluctantly, and I watch as Jasper and Ben introduce themselves, shaking hands good-naturedly.

"Jasper, this is my best friend Angela. Ang, this is Jasper."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Angela," he says, reaching for her hand. She surprises him by pulling him in for a suffocating hug instead, and I laugh at the panicked look he gives me. His voice is weak and breathless when he continues. "I feel like I know you already."

"Well, I _would_ know you already," she says as she releases him, "if Bella hadn't been such a ghost these past few months. I guess she's been distracted." She winks at Jasper, and he chuckles before settling his arm into its favorite spot around my waist. His hand rests on my hip, and I smile because from him, the gesture never seems possessive. It feels as necessary and natural as breathing.

Ben and Jasper lose themselves in conversation over upcoming bowl games while Angela pulls me aside to get drinks. She's silent as we make our way through the crowd to the kitchen, and still quiet as we duck back into the party. She drags me to a dark corner, and I follow wordlessly.

"Isabella Swan," she says when she finally turns to face me, and I know she means business. "I haven't seen you in almost a month."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Angie. Finals got a little crazy, and then we were in Dallas until yesterday with Charlie."

"I know all of that, and I'm not trying to guilt trip you here. I just want you to know that I've missed you. It's nice to see you so happy, though. Love suits you."

"How did you –"

"Oh, please, Bella," she laughs. "You guys aren't exactly flying under the radar. He's staring at you while he talks to Ben, for one thing."

My eyes search the room until I find him, and I smile when I see that she isn't lying. He's watching me almost wistfully, nodding at whatever Ben is saying. He smirks at me, obviously not embarrassed at being caught. I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs lightly before turning to answer Ben. I'm grinning stupidly when I turn back to Angela. Her face tells me that she watched the whole exchange, and I imitate Jasper's shrug; I'm not embarrassed either.

"You're right," I concede. "I'm in love with him. Happy?"

"Ecstatically. Now why haven't you told me this until now?"

"I don't know, Ang," I say, smiling gently and shaking my head. My eyes flicker to Jasper, and I catch him watching me again. "Time just disappears sometimes, you know?"

"Eyes on me, little miss," she commands, and I turn to face her, stifling a laugh. "You better not let it happen again, or else."

"I promise not to let it happen again."

I spend the rest of the night dancing with Jasper and catching up with my friends. I really did miss Angela, and I feel sick that I let myself pull away so much. Falling for Jasper has been wonderful, but intense. I watch him, taking the way his hair falls across his eyes, and the trace of sadness that seems to linger there. It disappears when he laughs, but in quiet moments, I always notice it. It makes me wonder what he sees and feels when he doesn't have life to distract him. When he's alone with his thoughts and memories and everything that haunts him.

We kiss at midnight, and it's slow and patient and full of promise. It's the kind of kiss that sneaks up on you with its intensity and leaves you breathless, your blood pounding and your lips tingling, missing the contact immediately. He smiles at me and brushes his thumb over my lips, as if he can sense the effect he's had on them.

We say our goodbyes soon after and make our way to the car. The ride to Jasper's house is tense, the air heavy with anticipation so thick I can feel it on my skin. Instead of suffocating, it's exhilarating. I feel every sidelong glance and casual touch multiplied as if every nerve in by body is raw and waiting. I take his hand in mine, letting my fingers find familiar skin and grounding myself with his touch. He gives me a nervous chuckle and a lopsided smile, and I know he feels it too. This energy between us has been building since Christmas Eve on Charlie's porch. It simmers uncomfortably and never quite fades, and knowing that he loves me and that we're alone tonight seems to have compounded the feeling.

"So," I begin, trying to cut through the tension and settle my nerves.

"So."

"Do you make resolutions?"

"Not usually," he laughs. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"Maybe. Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Make resolutions."

"Not usually. I mean, nothing specific," I say, pausing to think for a moment. "If I write them out, it just seems like a laundry list of rules waiting to be broken. I just tell myself I'll be a little better, and maybe a little wiser. Hopefully happier. That's usually enough for me."

"You're easy to please," he says, winking.

"Lucky for you."

He laughs, and the force of it breaks through the weight of hopes and wants hanging over us. His eyes are on the road, but I can see the way his smile lifts and brightens his face, even from his profile.

"And were you happier last year than you were in oh-eight?" he asks quietly.

"You know I was. This year looks pretty promising so far, too," I answer. He brings my hand to his lips sweetly, first kissing my palm and then the scar on my first finger. "What about you?"

"What kind of question is that?" he teases. He squeezes my hand before speaking again, and when he does his voice is all sincerity. "I hope I don't have to tell you how you've changed my life, Bella. If you don't know that, I'm doing something wrong."

"I think I know. I just like to make you say it."

Silence falls again, and I wait for him to break it. He looks like he's working up to something important, his eyebrows furrowing and the tendons in his forearm flexing as he runs his fingers over my hand softly.

"I think I know how I might be happier," he says, so quietly I hardly hear him. "She's not going to give up. She's sent two letters already, and I don't think it's going to stop. I don't think I can move on until I know what she wants. I think Rosie's leaning the same way, but maybe I should make contact first. I need to make sure it's okay – make sure it's safe for her."

"I think that's probably a good idea, but you need to talk about it with Rosie. You can't leave her out of this decision. It's both of your futures."

"I won't. I just need to protect her as much as I can."

"You can't protect her from everything, Jasper," I whisper gently. "She's not a little girl anymore."

"I know. She really surprises me with how strong she is sometimes."

"She gets it from you," I say, because it's the absolute truth. "So what are you going to do?"

"I guess I'll have to write her a letter. She didn't leave a phone number, just an address. Will you help me write it?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

"I guess not," he says, grinning widely.

My nerves return when we walk in his front door, but I barely have time to register the sensation of my stomach imploding before his lips are on mine and my back is against his front door. I laugh breathlessly against him as my hands move to tangle in his hair, and his hands make quick work of the buttons of my coat. I pull away to shrug out of it watch him remove his own. His confident grin sends a tickle of heat down my spine and into my bones.

He takes my hand and leads me wordlessly down the hall to his room, stopping in front of his bed without turning any lights on. The moonlight filters softly through the shutters on the windows. I watch the way it falls in wide bars across him, catching on the face of his watch and the buckle of his belt as he unbuttons his dress shirt. He looks uneasy, and I want desperately to reassure him. I untuck his shirt for him, watching it fall to the floor before I move to grasp his belt buckle firmly. His body stiffens as I pull the free edge through the loops and work to uncinch it, and his hands grip my wrists securely. I pause, swallowing thickly before letting myself look at his face. My heart stutters, falling painfully deep into my chest when my bright eyes meet his empty ones. My hands move from his belt to his jaw as his fall limply to his sides. I pull his face closer to mine, whispering soothingly against his skin and trailing tender kisses along his jawline.

He doesn't respond. His chest heaves with short, shallow breaths and I feel his heart hammering dangerously in his chest. I push him slowly back until his legs hit the bed and he's forced to sit. I climb into his lap gently, trying to get as close as possible, desperate to pull him out of whatever he's reliving behind his deadened eyes. My mumbled pleas have no effect on him, and I feel myself starting to panic.

"Jasper, please," I cry weakly. My tears burn a scorching path down my cheeks and trickle over onto his, and I taste the salt on my lips and against his skin. "Jasper, please come back. I love you. Please, don't do this."

I recognize the exact moment in which he comes back to me. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and whispers my name against my neck. His hands move to my back and he crushes my body against his. I weep softly against his shoulder, at once relieved and terrified. I thought he was getting better. I thought he was making progress, and that I was helping him to heal. He's never been so far away from me, and I've never been so scared that I wouldn't be able to find him again.

"Shh, I'm here. Please don't cry, Bella."

I relax against him, pulling back to gauge his expression. His eyes are worried and apologetic, and I feel weak for making this worse by crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I was just so scared."

"Hey, don't you dare apologize to me," he says. He brushes his thumbs across my face tenderly before leaning in to kiss my still tear-dampened cheeks. "You found me, Bella. You always find me."

"I thought I wasn't going to be able to," I murmur. "You were so far away. I don't know what I did wrong this time."

"You never do anything wrong, Bella. It's all me. I can't even let my girlfriend take off my fucking belt without remembering my mother," he says bitterly.

"It's not your fault. We need to work through this together. Tell me what happened. Where did you go?"

"I – I need to show you," he stutters. "You need to see my scars to understand. I just – I don't know how. I've never done this before, Bella. I've never been this close to anyone. I've never shown them to anyone. Rosie and my mom saw them when it happened. Garrett found them later, right before Mom lost custody. No one else."

"What are you afraid of?" I whisper.

"It makes me sick when I see them… I can't imagine what you'll think."

I run my fingers through his hair soothingly, trying to decide how to explain to him how wrong he is. He says he can't walk away from me, and nothing he tells or shows me is going to scare me away from him now. I'm in too deep; I'm too invested. I love him. I choose my words carefully, speaking softly and watching his eyes as they search mine for answers.

"I know that to you, they're more than just marks on your flesh. They go so much deeper. They're reminders of everything that's gone wrong in your life, but you can't let them define you anymore. To me, you're so much more than what you've suffered. You have to see that."

He hesitates before he speaks, and his hands tighten their grip on my hips. His voice is quiet and a little shaky, and his pain echoes in my chest.

"I don't know how to get past it. They're always there… haunting me. Every time I look in the mirror – every time I see them – all I can think about is the pain."

I can't imagine being faced with such horrific reminders of my past every day in my own reflection. The features I share with my mother are bittersweet, but at least I have those pieces of her to carry with me. He has nothing positive to associate with his scars. Only pain.

"Maybe we can do something about that," I suggest tentatively. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Okay, then take off your shirt and lie on your back. I'm turning on the light."

"Wait – Bella, please. I don't know if I can –"

I silence him with a kiss, cradling his face gently yet firmly between my hands. His cheeks – cold, clammy and tense under my touch – relax as his lips begin to move with mine. I pull back slowly, my eyes meeting his in the near-darkness. The moonlight reflects softly in them, and I can tell he's nervous.

"Please, just trust me. If it's too much, I'll stop. I love you… let me show you."

He nods slowly, and I climb off his lap to switch on the light, and when I turn around his undershirt is gone. He's lying back against the pillows, and he could almost pass for asleep if not for his fists which clench tightly at his sides. His eyes are closed, and I watch his chest as he takes slow, deep breaths, in and out. I move carefully to his side, running my fingers gently over the scarred flesh of his chest that I've never seen before. He shudders slightly under my touch and opens his eyes.

"I want to tell you what happened… what she did. It's – it's a lot, Bella. I'm worried it'll be too much."

"I'm right here," I whisper. I kiss the rough skin of his neck, and he pulls me closer until my head rests comfortably on his chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know you aren't."

His arms surround me first, and then so do his words. He speaks in hushed tones, his voice moving over me gently and hesitantly, as if he's trying to soften the impact. I steel myself, determined not to show a hint of weakness. His steady beating heart keeps time against my cheek, grounding me and giving me strength.

**–*–*–**

_**December 31, 2001 (Jasper is 14, Rosie is 8)**_

"_You gonna be okay here tonight, Rosie?" I asked. She was sitting on her bed, watching me get ready for my New Years Eve party at Peter's house. It had taken Mrs. Kerby a week to convince Mom that nothing bad was going to happen. She and Mr. Kerby were going to be home the whole time to chaperone, and Peter had invited almost all our friends. It was going to be awesome._

"_I'll be fine," she promised. "I'm sad that Tanya's sick, though. I wish I was going to spend the night with her instead."_

_Her eyes were sad, and I was worried that she was afraid to be home alone. I was nervous about leaving her, and scared that Mom would be drinking since it was New Year's. _

"_I'll stay with you if you want me to, sweetie. Say the word and we can have a movie night, just you and me. I'll pop some popcorn… You can pick the movie this time."_

"_You better let me pick," she said, finally smiling. "You always choose bad ones."_

"_Hey, Jim Carrey as the Grinch was awesome. Don't start that again."_

"_That movie stunk, Jasper," she laughed. "The Whos were creepy and so was he. I can't believe you made me watch the whole thing."_

"_You can't just stop watching a movie because you don't like it. It might get better."_

"_Or it might stink all the way to the end."_

"_So how about it? You and me?"_

_I watched her think about it, and I could tell she wanted to say yes. I knew she wouldn't, though. She knew I was excited about the party._

"_I'll be okay. It's just one night, and I don't want to mess up your plans or anything."_

"_You never mess up my plans. It'd be just as much fun, I promise."_

_I smiled at her reassuringly, but she shook her head. She'd made up her mind already and nothing would change that._

"_We can do that tomorrow night. You should go have fun with your friends. Is Maria going to be there?"_

"_What does that have to do with anything?" I laughed._

"_She's pretty, Jasper. I've seen you looking at her. Are you going to dance with her? Are you gonna kiss her at midnight?"_

"_Rosie… no, I'm not. She's just my friend."_

"_I bet she'd like to be your girlfriend."_

"_I don't have time for a girlfriend. Who needs one, anyway? You're my best girl."_

_She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes at me. I didn't want to explain the real reasons why. Sure, I didn't really have time for a girlfriend. I also didn't want one. I didn't want to have someone else to lie to or hide things from. I didn't want to have to introduce her to my mom. I didn't want someone else to explain cuts and bruises to. I didn't want anyone else feeling sorry for me or asking questions all the time. It was hard enough the way things were. The last thing I needed was something else to worry about._

"_Whatever, Jasper. You should still go have fun."_

"_You're the boss. Now why don't you help me pick which shirt to wear?"_

_She smiled jumped off her bed, running to the closet and looking through all my dress shirts. I wasn't used to dressing up for stuff. We didn't go to church anymore, and the last time I wore a tie was at my dad's funeral. I'd outgrown my belt, so when my mom wasn't home I'd snuck into my dad's closet to borrow a belt and a tie. Everything was exactly where it always was, even his shoes. One of his brown dress shoes was lying out in the middle of the floor because that's where it was the day he died. All of his clothes hung neatly in their place, and most of his dress shirts were still starched and bagged from a trip to the cleaners. _

_I'd stood in the doorway for a long time, and I imagined I could feel him there with me. It still smelled like his cologne. I wondered if it really did or if Mom did that. Thinking about her dusting in there and spraying his cologne made me a little nauseous. I'd picked the first belt and tie I laid hands on and ran out before I could feel any guiltier about it. I really hoped she didn't notice._

"_Here you go," Rosie said, and I realized I had totally zoned out on her. "This blue one will make your eyes look pretty."_

"_Aww, look at you thinking my eyes are pretty," I teased. It really was cute, though, and I didn't mean to embarrass her. "Thanks, sweetie."_

_She sat on her bed again, watching me get ready. After almost half an hour of trying to tie the tie, I gave up. I was pretty sure no one would be wearing ties anyway. It seemed kinda weird for just a bunch of fourteen-year-olds. My hands shook when I put my dad's belt on. It felt wrong to be wearing it, but my new pants were too big and I had to have something to hold them up. The belt was too big, too, but I poked an extra hole in it with my Swiss Army knife and decided it would have to do._

"_You look really handsome, Jasper."_

"_You really sure you don't want me to stay?"_

"_Jasper, go!" she laughed. "Didn't the party start already?"_

"_Alright, fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted. I'll just get out of your hair, then," I joked. She shook her head at me and smiled, and I walked over to give her a kiss on the forehead before I left. She hugged me tight before I could pull away, and I wrapped my arms around her. I rubbed her back like always until she relaxed. "Hey, chin up. I'm just down the street. You know you can call me if you need to, right? I left Pete's number on your desk for you, right next to the phone."_

"_I know. I'll be fine, I promise."_

"_You should probably just stay in here," I said, hating the way she nodded at me. I didn't have to tell her. "Don't forget the locks."_

"_I won't, Jasper. I'm a big girl."_

"_And you can always run next door to get Garrett if you have to… just tell him where I am."_

"_Get out of here! You're being silly and you're going to miss your whole party."_

"_Okay, okay. I'll see you later, sweetie. Don't stay up too late."_

_I gave her another kiss on her forehead and then walked out into the hallway. I heard her lock the door behind me and smiled sadly. I hated that she had to lay low. I hated that she had to worry. I really hated having to leave her here alone. I figured I could just go to the party for a little while and then come home. Pete would be disappointed if I skipped out after his mom had to try so hard to get permission for me to go. _

_I sighed and made my way slowly down the dark hallway. Elvis was already playing on the stereo in the living room. I was hoping she'd be in her room._

_I walked quietly into the room, but she heard me. Her empty glass clinked as she turned to look at me._

"_Well don't you look handsome, baby?" she slurred. I hadn't been paying attention to her tonight, and I didn't notice how wasted she was already. "Like such a little man. Come sit down with me for just a second."_

_I walked around in front of her on the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table. She picked up her bottle of vodka to refill her drink, and I opened my mouth to tell her to stop. No sound came out, though, and I shook my head at myself. I was such a coward._

"_I'm gonna go to Pete's house now, okay? Rosie's already in bed so don't worry about her. She was really tired."_

"_You're a good boy, Jasper," she said. _

_Her eyes were red and watery and so far away, and I could tell she'd been crying. I hated leaving her like that, and I especially hated leaving her with Rosie like that. I would make it really quick. I'd just go long enough to say hi to Pete and then I'd make up something about feeling sick. I stood up to go, but she reached out and grabbed my belt buckle before I could go anywhere. _

"_M–mom?" I stuttered. "Mom, let go."_

"_What's this?" she whispered._

"_It's my belt."_

"_Don't lie to me, Jasper. Don't you dare lie to me."_

"_It's just a belt, Mom. It's a nice party, and my pants are a little too big. I just needed to–"_

"_I told you not to fucking lie to me. This is your father's belt. You went in his closet. Who the hell do you think you are?"_

"_I–I'm so sorry," I mumbled. "I'll take it off. I just thought–"_

"_You thought what, exactly? You thought I wouldn't notice? That is your father's closet. Those are his things. How dare you touch them? How dare you think you can just wear his clothes like it's nothing? They're waiting for him. It's just like he left it and it's waiting for him and how do you think he'd feel to know that you stole them out of there like a little thief?"_

_She stood up then, swaying on her feet and dropping her glass to the floor where it shattered._

"_I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."_

"_Take it off. Now." She demanded. Her voice was flat and dead, and even though she wasn't yelling, it was terrifying._

"_Y-yes, ma'am."_

_I took the belt off with shaky hands. She reached out for it and I gave it to her. She touched it carefully, like it was something beautiful and special. I guessed it was, to her, since it was his._

"_Take off your shirt."_

"_What?"_

"_You heard me, Jasper. Take it off."_

_I should have run. I should have pushed her over onto the couch and gotten Rosie and run away. I should have locked myself in the closet with my sister and called Garrett or 911. I should have done anything but what I did._

_I unbuttoned my shirt as fast as I could and pulled it off, along with my undershirt. I turned around and fell to the floor, and I let her hurt me. I listened to her yell and cry, cursing me and God and sobbing my dad's name. I tried to be strong, but I couldn't help yelling out against the pain. I heard Rosie calling me, and I told her to stay where she was. _

_She finally stopped and sunk to her knees on the floor next to me, whispering apologies and kissing the stinging skin of my back. I got up and ran, leaving her in a crying heap on the floor. I could feel the tears burning my eyes and cheeks, and I hated myself for them. _

_I stopped in the bathroom and got a wet washcloth before running back to Rosie's and my room and locking the door behind me. She was waiting for me, tears running down her cheeks. _

"_It's okay, sweetie, I'm fine."_

"_Jasper, what h-h-happened? Where's your s-s-shirt?" she sobbed._

"_It was my fault. I made her mad."_

"_But why–"_

"_Just please, Rosie. It's okay. I just want to lie down."_

_She hiccoughed, and I wiped her tears away. She nodded and went to sit on her bed. I collapsed onto mine, trying to fling the washcloth onto my back to soothe the throbbing skin. I heard Rosie gasp and then get up and walk toward the door, unlocking it._

"_Rosie, no!" I whispered forcefully. "Don't you dare go out–"_

"_Shh! I'll be right back."_

_I jumped up to follow her, stopping in the doorway when I saw her duck into the bathroom. She came back out a minute later with the first-aid kit in her hands, and I smiled sadly at her. She narrowed her eyes at me and pointed to my bed. I nodded obediently and fell back into bed. She closed and locked the door and then climbed up in bed until she was sitting right next to me._

"_Why'd you let her do it?" she whispered._

"_I don't know. She was yelling at me and I just did what she said. I didn't want her to get any madder. I didn't want her to hurt you."_

"_But she hurt you, Jasper. You shouldn't let her hurt you."_

_She started cleaning my cuts carefully, and I hissed when the hydrogen peroxide hit. She blew on the wounds, trying to make it feel better._

"_She didn't mean to."_

_She didn't answer me. She kept working, and I heard her sniffling. There were so many cuts. I tried not to count how many she cleaned, and they all blurred together anyway. I started crying silently into my pillow when Rosie started to sing to me. Her sweet little voice was shaky, but she was trying so hard to be strong. I was always trying to be strong for her. The last thing I wanted was for her to have to do this for me. I was supposed to be protecting her, not making her take care of me. I was supposed to be keeping this from happening. I was supposed to save her. _

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," she sang softly. "You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."_

_I fell asleep listening to her voice, hoping that she would forget all about this. Deep down I knew she wouldn't, and neither would I._

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**Thank you for reading. This is another two-parter and will continue with chapter seventeen next week. Anyone in need of a hug?**

**There is an example of film reticulation on my livejournal page. daisy3853(dot)livejournal(dot)com  
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**Thank you to justaskalice for being a wonderful beta even when she's busy. Thank you to Lucette21 for reading and making it better even when it makes her sad.**

**Round two of voting for the Indies is now open! Head over before March 24****th**** to cast your votes. www(dot)theindietwificawards(dot)com/voteround2(dot)aspx**


	17. Reticulation part 2

**This chapter picks up where we left off in 16, with a little repeated to set the scene. It does discuss physical abuse of a child, so please proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such triggers. See you on the other side.**

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"**There is no closed figure in nature. Every shape participates with another. No one thing is independent of another, and one thing rhymes with another, and light gives them shape."**

– **Henri Cartier-Bresson**

_**January 1, 2002 (Jasper is 14, Rosie is 8)**_

"_Why'd you let her do it?" she whispered._

"_I don't know. She was yelling at me and I just did what she said. I didn't want her to get any madder. I didn't want her to hurt you."_

"_But she hurt you, Jasper. You shouldn't let her hurt you."_

_She started cleaning my cuts carefully, and I hissed when the hydrogen peroxide hit. She blew on the wounds, trying to make it feel better._

"_She didn't mean to."_

_She didn't answer me. She kept working, and I heard her sniffling. There were so many cuts. I tried not to count how many she cleaned, and they all blurred together anyway. I started crying silently into my pillow when Rosie started to sing to me. Her sweet little voice was shaky, but she was trying so hard to be strong. I was always trying to be strong for her. The last thing I wanted was for her to have to do this for me. I was supposed to be protecting her, not making her take care of me. I was supposed to be keeping this from happening. I was supposed to save her._

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," she sang softly. "You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."_

_I fell asleep listening to her voice, hoping that she would forget all about this. Deep down I knew she wouldn't, and neither would I._

_I woke up with a jolt when someone started banging on our bedroom door. It was still dark outside, and the only light came from the lamp next to my bed. I was groggy from being woken up so soon, and it took me a minute to adjust and remember what had happened. _

"_Jasper? Rosalie? Let me in." It was my mom._

_I sat up straight in bed, hissing when my movements reminded me of the wounds on my back. I noticed that Rosie hadn't moved from my side. She was curled up at the foot of my bed with a book and her stuffed bunny. She'd dropped her book when she heard my mom, and now she looked panicked._

"_Shh," I whispered. She nodded._

"_Jasper, please, baby. I'm so sorry. Just let me look at you. I need to make sure you're okay."_

_Rosie opened her mouth to answer, but I shook my head and she closed it again. I put my finger to my lips to tell her to keep quiet._

_Mom started knocking on the door again, harder this time. Rosie climbed up to sit next to me. I winced as I raised my arm to tuck her into my chest. It hurt, and I could feel my skin pulling against my cuts, but I did it anyway._

"_Rosie-bee? Please let me in. I know you're scared, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. Please. I just want to see if he's okay."_

_Rosie shook with silent sobs, and I hugged her closer. She was terrified, and I didn't know how mom couldn't understand that she was only making that worse. I had to do something. _

"_Mom, please–"_

"_Go to sleep, Mom," Rosie interrupted. "You hurt him and he doesn't want you to come in here now. I'm taking care of him."_

"_Rosie, let me in! Right this minute." _

_Rosie jumped out of bed and ran to the door. I was scared for a minute that she was about to let Mom in, but she surprised me. She stood as tall as an eight-year-old possibly could, her hands on her hips, and sounded much older when she yelled back at our mom._

"_NO! I'm not letting you in. You're scaring me and you hurt Jasper and I want you to go to bed now." Mom stopped trying to beat down the door but didn't walk away. I could still see her feet from under the door frame. Rosie whispered, begging one more time for her to listen. "Please, Mom."_

_I watched the space under the door until she turned the hall light off and walked away. I heard her bedroom door shut quietly, and then Rosie and I both stayed very still, listening to the silence. Once she was sure Mom was gone, Rosie climbed back in bed with me. She was still crying quietly, so I hugged her close to my chest and tried to comfort her._

"_It's okay, sweetie. It's over. She went to bed."_

"_I don't like it when she does that," she cried. "It scares me. I don't want her to hurt you anymore."_

"_I'm okay. You're taking good care of me, and I'm going to be just fine. Please don't worry."_

"_I'm scared of her," she whispered._

"_Hey, look at me," I said. I pulled her away enough so that I could look her in the eye. Her eyes were red and wet with tears, and I hated seeing her that way. "She's not going to hurt you. I won't let her. I'm going to take care of you. That's what big brothers are for."_

"_You promise?"_

"_Cross my heart. Don't you worry about Mom. Everything's going to be okay."_

"_I hope so."_

"_I think we should both go to bed now. Why don't you go climb in bed and I'll tuck you in?"_

"_Can I stay with you? I'm still scared."_

_I wiped her tears away and nodded. It wouldn't be very comfortable since I couldn't really lay on my back, but if it was what she wanted, I'd deal with it._

"'_Course you can."_

_I pulled back the covers for her and waited for her to crawl underneath and curl up on her stomach. She was still sniffling a little big, but she seemed to have calmed down a lot. I turned off the light and crawled in next to her. We lay quietly for a long time, but I could tell she was still awake. I felt her reach out in the dark to take my hand._

"_I love you, Jasper," she whispered._

"_I love you too, sweetie."_

_I woke up slowly, what felt like days later. I opened my eyes, expecting to see Rosie next to me, but she wasn't there. My heart started racing, and I jumped out of bed as fast as I could. I ignored the way my back stung in protest and how my muscles ached like I'd been hit by a car. She wasn't in our room._

"_Rosie?" I called._

"_What?"_

_I turned around in time to see her walking out of our closet. She was looking at me like I was crazy, and I felt silly for panicking. I looked back at our bedroom door and saw that the lock was still latched. Of course she hadn't left._

"_Sorry, I didn't see you. I was worried. What were you doing in there?"_

"_Getting dressed. Do you feel better?"_

"_Much better," I lied._

"_You're lying," she accused. She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled knowingly at me._

"_Alright, you got me. I'm lying," I laughed. "I feel sort of terrible, actually. Has she…?" I trailed off, knowing she'd understand what I was asking._

"_I think she's still sleeping. It's almost ten."_

"_Good. Why don't you wait here, and I'll go fix us some breakfast?"_

"_No."_

"_No?"_

"_You heard me. Get back in bed. You're hurt. and I'm going to take care of you."_

"_You don't have to do that, sweetie. I'm really fine."_

"_No, you're not. I'm only eight, but I guess I'm old enough to make you a peanut butter and jelly," she said, and for a minute I forgot that she was only eight years old. She looked so much more mature, and I was torn between being proud of her and feeling like it was my fault that she was so grown up. I decided to settle on being proud._

"_Okay, Rosie, you win. Just please be careful."_

"_Don't worry about me. It's just a sandwich," she teased. I rolled my eyes._

_She pointed me back to my bed, so I climbed back in to wait for her. She unlocked the door slowly and opened it, sticking her head out into the hallway to check things out. She turned back and smiled, giving me the thumbs up before tiptoeing out and closing the door behind her._

_Waiting for Rosie to come back seemed to last forever. I didn't hear anything, including the sound of my mom's door opening or closing, but I still couldn't shake my the feeling that something bad was going to happen. I was so relieved when she finally came back with our sandwiches that I had to remind myself not to tackle her or anything._

_We ate our breakfast quietly. I used to tease Rosie for liking peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, but I had to admit that it really hit the spot. After we finished, Rosie surprised me again by telling me to lie down so she could clean my back. I hesitated because I didn't really want her to have to deal with it, but in the end she wouldn't let me brush her off._

_She used more hydrogen peroxide and this time Neosporin, too, now that the cuts had aired out a little. Some part of me wondered where she learned how to take care of me like that, because I'd always tried to hide that part of my life from her. I didn't want her to see me that way. I didn't want her to know what Mom was capable of. Somewhere along the way, I'd missed how much this was affecting her, despite how hard I'd tried to keep her out of it._

_We spent the rest of the morning hanging out in our room. Rosie read aloud to me from her book, and I taught her how to play five card draw. I didn't look up when I heard my mom come out of her room. Rosie tensed in front of me and forgot to pick up the cards I dealt her. _

_I had unlocked the door already, so I kept my head down and didn't say anything when I heard a quiet knock on the door. Rosie jumped up off my bed and climbed into hers._

"_Jasper, can I come in?" she asked. Her voice was raw and scratchy from the alcohol and the yelling, and I didn't answer her. "Please, baby."_

_I finally looked up at her and I tried not to react at all to what I saw. She looked terrible. Her hair was a mess, her face was red and blotchy, and her eyes were wet. She looked like she'd been crying all night. I looked back down at my cards again, choosing two to discard and drawing two more, even though Rosie wasn't playing anymore._

_She walked slowly across the floor, and I felt the bed shift when she sat down next to me. She quietly asked Rosie to let us talk alone for a minute. If she hadn't, I would have. I didn't want Rosie to hear whatever she had to say.. _

_Mom reached out and tried to brush my hair out of my face. I flinched away from her touch, and she wrung her hands together in her lap instead. I concentrated on my cards. _

"_Jasper, I'm so sorry," she cried. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know what came over me. I just… When I saw you with it… I just snapped."_

_I kept my head down and my eyes on my cards. I had a full house: jacks over queens. I bet it was enough to beat Rosie._

"_I shouldn't have gotten so upset. They're your father's things, but you have every right to use them. I don't know why I thought I should keep them locked away. I – I wasn't thinking."_

"_You were drunk," I said. My voice was cold and blunt, and I tried not to feel bad for saying it out loud._

"_I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry that you had to see me that way."_

"_I see you that way a lot these days."_

"_I know. I'm going to change that. I – I found a therapist to start seeing and a support group. I'm going to get better, Jasper. I want to be better for you."_

_I didn't know what to say. She'd gone to see a shrink right after Dad died, but that didn't seem to help at all. She stopped going after awhile, and things only got worse after that. She'd told me the same story a hundred times. She was sorry. She didn't mean to. She didn't know what came over her. She was sorry. It would never happen again. It was an accident. She was sorry. "Sorry" never seemed to mean a whole lot._

"_I know what you're thinking," she cried._

"_I'm thinking that you don't know what sorry means."_

_She didn't say anything, and I knew I had hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her, I just wanted her to say she was sorry and mean it. I wanted her to show me that Rosie and I were important. I wanted us to be the _most_ important thing to her. Not my dad, who was never coming back, or her alcohol, or her sadness. I wanted her to try hard enough and be able to show Rosie that she was worth the effort._

_We sat in silence for a long time, and the next time she reached out to touch me, I didn't pull away. I let her put her hand on my cheek and then wipe away tears I hadn't realized were there. I let her put her arms around me, and I flinched when she hugged me because it made my entire back burn with pain. She started crying harder and asked if she could see it. I let her. I wanted her to know what she did. She gasped when I took my shirt off._

_I let her cry over me, and I let her redress my wounds even though Rosie had done a good job on her own. I guessed she wanted to feel useful, or like I needed her to take care of me. She sang to me while she worked, just like Rosie did. I couldn't decide if it made me feel better or if it made me feel more nauseous. When she finished, I sat up and put my shirt back on. _

_She smiled sadly at me, and I let her kiss my cheek. She called Rosie back in with us, and I watched her carefully. She was shy and unsure, and she came and sat on my bed with us so that I was in between her and our mom. Mom didn't miss that. _

"_How about a game of Go Fish?" she asked. She was trying to act happy, but it was that kind of fake happy where it's really obvious. She was smiling way too big and I could still see the tears in her eyes._

"_That sounds fun, Mom," said Rosie._

_I squeezed Rosie's knee and tried to smile reassuringly at her. We spent the rest of the afternoon on my bed playing Go Fish and poker, and Mom even fixed us a picnic lunch to eat in bed. _

_It seemed like a normal day, or at least as normal a day as I could have hoped for after that night. I hoped that she really would get some help. I hoped that she would get better. I hoped that she'd try harder. Most of all, I hoped that she wouldn't disappoint Rosie anymore._

**–*–*–**

**Present day**

When the memories become too much, I hold him, whispering to him until he can continue. He sits in front of me, his back against my chest, my legs surrounding him and holding him to me as he finishes his story. He speaks of a boy who loved a mother who lost control. A mother who held so tightly to a ghost that she smothered her own reality with the weight of her neglect and cruelty. Tears fall silently down my cheeks, but I brush them away carefully before they can trickle onto his skin.

I know now that the first time she hurt him was just an accident, a fit of passion in a sea of grief, but that it left a jagged line just below his hairline on his forehead. I know that she took a cigarette to his neck by mistake as she tried to stumble past him the first time he put himself between her and Rosalie. I know that the blistered skin on his chest is from a scalding burn when she threw boiling water on him for suggesting she might benefit from therapy. I know that the crosshatch marks across the heel of his hand – the ones my fingers love to trace – are from when he raised his hands to shield his face from an empty bottle of tequila. And now I know about the New Year's Eve when he borrowed a belt from her macabre shrine to her husband, and she used it to punish him for crimes she imagined him guilty of. Those marks are the most expansive, covering his entire back in a web of hurt and shattered hopes.

There are many, many more, and I know every last imperfection that graces his skin. They're all evidence of his strength and her weakness, and my lips and hands have spent hours touching them all reverently while his lips whispered his truths to me. It's somehow easier and harder to know the meaning behind each one of his scars now. I understand more and less at the same time. I see all of him, love all of him, and yet I still can't comprehend the depth of his pain. Everything he's had to endure – everything his mother put him through – is slightly unsettling in its magnitude.

My fingers follow the lines of the scars on his back – these ghosts of his pain that linger on his skin and haunt him even in moments of happiness. My lips follow my fingers tenderly, as if they can somehow absolve him of all that he suffers. At first my touches were met with his hesitation and insecurity, but now he relaxes against me entirely.

"Rosie stayed with me through all of it. She never left my side," he whispers. "God, Bella. She was eight years old. She should never have had to do that. I was supposed to take care of _her_. That was the day she really grew up, and it was way too fucking soon."

"She loves you. You didn't let anything touch her for almost ten years, Jasper. How much do you think those ten years mean to Rosalie? That's her childhood. It means everything. You both have scars, and not just the ones you can see; neither one of you made it out unscathed. The important thing is that you both made it out."

"You make it easy to forget all of it," he admits quietly. "You make me feel like I deserve to be happy… like I deserve a life. I want a life with you, Bella."

"You deserve everything," I whisper. I run my fingers softly over his back and press a lingering kiss between his shoulder blades. "You're so beautiful."

He laughs humorlessly, his body stiffening suddenly. I crawl around from behind him until I'm sitting in his lap and his back is against the pillows. His eyes are downcast, his face tense.

"How can you think these are beautiful?" he asks bitterly. "All I see is pain and cruelty and weakness. I should have gotten Rosie away from her sooner. I should have let Garrett help us or tried to find my grandparents. Every one of these reminds me of how I've failed Rosie."

"You don't see yourself clearly. You were just a boy, Jasper. You were scared and you were alone, and you never should have had to make those kinds of decisions. You did the best you could with what you were given. You can't continue to beat yourself up over this. You gave Rosalie a happy, stable, safe home. She's alive, Jasper. But more than that... she's flourishing. She's vibrant and lovely and self-confident, and just as strong and loyal as her brother. Can't you see what you've done for her? What you've given her?"

"I wanted to give her more. She deserves everything."

"You _are_ everything to her, Jasper. Everything. You're her brother, her best friend, her provider, and her rock. You've done so much more for her than you give yourself credit for. You've given her back her life."

He shakes his head, still not listening. He's so entrenched in his own guilt that he can't even open his eyes and take a look around. He sees failures where he ought to see successes. He's so used keeping his head down and his nose to the grindstone – so used to the constant battle – that he hasn't even noticed that he's won. I move my fingers softly over the burn marks on his chest, pausing when his hand covers mine tentatively.

"How can you look at these the way you do? Let alone touch them," he whispers. "They disgust me. I just don't understand how you can look past all of this."

"Can I please explain to you what I see?" I pause, tracing my finger lightly over the cigarette burns on his neck. I have to make him understand. I hope he hears the honesty and sincerity behind my words. "When I look at these, I see a man who loves unconditionally. Someone who's devoted and fiercely loyal. Someone who gave up his own childhood to spare his sister's. I see a man who, even as a boy, stood up for what was right, no matter the cost. Every one of these is a part of you, Jasper. They tell your story, but they don't write it. They show me who you are and what you're capable of, but they don't dictate that. You are the most beautiful man I've ever known, not despite these scars but because of them. I love you. Every part of you."

His face gradually brightens as my words sink in, and by the time I finish speaking, the force of his smile is enough to warm me deep to my bones. He reaches up with one hand, gently running his fingertips over the apple of my cheek before twining his fingers into my hair. I lean closer, meeting his lips with mine in a slow and easy kiss. A kiss so sweet it dissolves all hints of tension and sadness lingering in the space between us. All the heartache of Jasper's past and all the painful memories he just shared with me are forgotten; all that matters are these lips on mine, this heart beneath my hand, and this man who loves me.

He pulls away, chuckling softly at the look of frustration I give him.

"You've seen all my battle scars now," he explains. He brings my hand to his lips, kissing the scar on my finger once, twice, three times. "I think it's your turn to show me yours."

"I think you already know most of mine," I laugh breathily.

"I'd still like to see them all again."

His words make me shiver, and he notices. He grins widely, clearly pleased with himself. I smile, relieved to see him being so playful again and excited about what it means.

"Where would you like to start?"

"Remind me about this one. The swing?" He grasps my face between his hands and pulls me down to kiss the small scar over my eyebrow that I shared with him the day we photographed each other in class.

"Yes. I tried to fly, but I fell," I say, and he laughs. "There's one here, too."

I offer him my forearm, and he finds the small circle just below the crook of my elbow easily.

"What happened?"

"Charlie took me fishing when I was six. I kept pouting because he wouldn't let me cast my rod by myself. I told him I was a big girl and he should let me prove it. He laughed and told me to give it my best shot. I caught my own arm on my first cast."

I remember Charlie soothing me as he carefully pulled the fish hook out, cleaned the cut, and put a band-aid over it. I'll never forget the pride on his face when I told him I wanted to try again anyway. I smile at the memory and the feel of Jasper's lips against my sensitive skin.

"What else are you hiding?" Jasper murmurs, drawing me back into the moment.

My stomach tries to escape to my chest as I reach down to the hem of my shirt. His eyes grow wide when I take it, pulling it slowly over my head and tossing it aside. His hands move immediately to my waist, gripping my hips gently. I rise to my knees, ignoring the way his face falls slightly when I pry his hands away and twist so I'm facing away from him. I place his hands back on my hips and ease my way back down to his lap.

"My shoulder. You've seen this one already, too."

He gathers my hair in his hands, twisting it into a long rope and draping it over my right shoulder. I feel his breath, hot and moist against my skin as he sneaks a finger beneath the strap on my other shoulder, sliding it over slowly until it hangs limply to the side. His lips brush the length of the rough reminder of my birthday at the lake, and his touch leaves goosebumps in its wake.

"Twenty-eight stitches. Your personal best, right?" he asks.

"Yes. How'd you remember?"

"I remember everything you say, Bella."

I turn around again, running my hands up his chest, over his neck, and into his hair. I pull him to me, kissing him deeply. He pulls me closer, flipping us both until I'm on my back and he's hovering over me.

"There's one on my right shin," I breathe.

He smiles, sitting back on his heels and lifting my leg to examine it. He spots the cluster of white marks immediately and laughs.

"What did you do here? It looks like shrapnel or something."

"Practically. We set off fireworks at Ben's parents' lake house on the Fourth of July two years ago. It was a little too windy, and a Roman candle blew off course and burned me."

I laugh, remembering how panicked Ben and Angela were. They drove me to the hospital frantically, and Ben insisted on speaking to Charlie himself to explain the situation and take responsibility. The burn wasn't even that bad, but Charlie still teases Ben about it whenever he has the chance.

Jasper's lips on my leg awaken me from my memory. He kisses each individual burn sweetly, leaving one lingering kiss on the biggest mark on my knee before he moves up to kiss my lips again.

"I have one more," I whisper.

"Where?"

"I had to have my appendix removed when I was fifteen. Charlie panicked – my stomach hurt so bad I thought I was dying. They took me in for emergency surgery, and I got to miss two weeks of school."

I take his hand, dragging it down my stomach to the small scar just below and to the right of my bellybutton. His finger finds the raised skin immediately, following side to side teasingly. I gasp when his lips follow, trailing soft, tender kisses in their path.

"I think this one is my favorite," he says, and I can feel his smile against my skin.

"Jasper, come here."

He climbs back up my body slowly, kissing all the way. His lips burn a fiery trail along my skin, and I'm practically shaking with anticipation.

"Bella, are you sure this is what you want?" he murmurs in my ear, as if there's any way I'll be able to turn away now.

"This is exactly what I want. Please don't stop."

"I haven't – I don't know… I mean, you know I've never done this before."

"Shh, it's okay," I breathe. "I'll show you."

His eyes are ablaze when they meet mine, and I see a new confidence and determination instead of uncertainty. My stomach flutters in response, my breath quickens, and my heart pounds so frantically I fear it might escape my chest. And then his lips are on mine, and once again my worries disappear. I'm vaguely aware of clothes disappearing, mouths against mouths, and skin against skin. His hands possess me, tracing new curves with such reverence and slow patience that the intensity is almost overwhelming. I guide them at first, but soon they move on their own: learning, exploring, and finding their own pace. He kisses my neck, just below my jaw, and smiles against me when he feels me come apart.

Our breathing is wonderfully ragged. His comes in hot, sticky puffs against my neck, interspersed with hungry kisses. He moves to hover above me, and I can feel him – right there. He hesitates for a moment, but I do not; I steal his lips in a frenzied kiss and slowly guide him into me.

Our bodies crash together, and we both exhale at the physical and emotional force of it. He stills momentarily, trembling slightly at the rush of new sensations. I whisper soothing words of encouragement while he slowly finds his rhythm. It's not perfect, but it's _us_, and I've never felt closer to anyone. My fingers move once more to trace the scars across his back, only this time instead of flinching away, his head falls forward and he pulls me closer.

His eyes never leave mine. I see myself reflected in them: the same intensity I feel, the passion, the need. It overwhelms me. Our gasps and hisses mingle in the air between us, and I can't discern from whose lips they're falling. The tension builds until he reaches his peak, crying out quietly; I taste my name as he breathes it against my lips.

I turn off the light, finally, and we wrap ourselves in sheets and each other, my head on his chest where I can hear and feel the frenetic beating of his heart against my cheek. He traces idle patterns across my naked back, and together our breathing slows as we settle into a peaceful bliss. We exist in our own quiet space of nothing and everything all at once.

When we're alone in our little universe, nothing else matters. There aren't scars or broken pasts or hesitations, only futures filled with love and promises and each other. It's simultaneously scary and exciting.

Even while I'm drifting, though, I can't get far enough away from the reality of our situation. The enormity of his history haunts him and by extension, me. The way it still affects him worries me. I want to make all his pain go away, and I want to love him, but I'm terrified that it won't be enough.

I don't want to lose myself in him, but sometimes I feel like that's exactly what's happening – in a good way. But I can't be everything to him. It's a dangerous game to play, and from what he's told me about his parents, it didn't work out so well for them. I want to love him with my whole heart, like Charlie still loves my mother. I want us to love and support each other, but I can't be his crutch. I don't want him to be mine.

"Jasper?"

"Hmm?" he answers, his voice heavy with contentment.

"Have you ever seen a therapist about all of this?"

"We both went to one right after we got away, but things were different then. It didn't really help me, and I didn't think I needed it. I mostly agreed to appease Garrett."

"How were things different?"

"It all just seemed so much easier then. I didn't have these… episodes… like I do now. I guess I was high on the thrill of finally being free."

"When did they start?"

"Maybe two years later? The nightmares started right before that. At first, I thought the episodes were from lack of sleep, but they just kept getting worse. I thought they had been getting better since I met you, but then tonight… this one was so much worse again."

I pause, trying to decide how best to word my suggestions. I don't want to overwhelm him or make him think that there's something wrong with him, but it's clear that he needs help to get whatever this is under control. He needs a professional that can help him sort through his traumatic past. Charlie was right; as much as I want it to, my love isn't going to fix him. I have to help him fix himself.

"I think – I think it might be a good idea for you to try therapy again," I whisper. His hands on my back still their movements for a moment, resuming slowly and more tentatively. "You were so far away tonight. I think it's more than just memories… you once said that it's like you're reliving your past. You were totally lost to me. First, your eyes go empty. Then your skin goes cold and clammy, and your heart beats way too fast. Sometimes you gasp for air. It scares me, Jasper. I'm scared that one day you won't come back."

He hesitates, pulling me tighter against him. My fingers move in lazy circles over his chest, and he leans down to brush his lips against the top of my head.

"I think you might be right. It worries me, too. I don't want to be like my mom. If I need help, I'm not afraid to go and get it."

"Thank you," I say, kissing the skin over his heart with a relieved smile on my lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he chuckles.

I feel as if a weight has been lifted from both of us, and I relax into his embrace. His fingers resume their patterned movements over my skin, gradually slowing as we both give into our exhaustion. I fall asleep in his arms, feeling alive, at peace, and utterly complete.

**

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**

**Thank you so much for reading. :)**

**So first, some exciting news... Someone nominated Underexposed for two awards in the "Everything's Bigger in Texas" Jasper contest – Best Use of Scars and Best Jasper (AH). I'm sort of giddy about it. :) Voting is now open and closes April 12. There are some fantastic stories nominated, so take a look and vote for your favorites. jaspersdarlins(dot)blogspot(dot)com**

**Thank you to justaskalice and Lucette21 for all their hard work on this chapter. It took a lot more handholding than usual, and they were both so patient and encouraging. **


	18. Panorama

"**Photography can never grow up if it imitates some other medium. It has to walk alone; it has to be itself." **

– **Berenice Abbott**

I walk along the trail that hugs the shore of Lake Austin, gravel crunching beneath my feet and Jasper's, and his hand warming mine. The first week of the new semester is finally coming to a close, and the end of January has been teasing us with unseasonably warm days and chilly nights. As the sun begins to set, it drains the afternoon of the last of its warmth. I hold tighter to Jasper's hand as a chill settles over me, and he pulls me into his chest, smiling. He throws his arm loosely around my back, his hand resting on my hip in my favorite way. I lean into him gratefully and feel his lips brush the top of my head.

We've been exploring all afternoon in search of something suitable to photograph for our first assignment in part two of Mr. Berty's class. He sent us off with Xpan cameras from equipment checkout and a plea to photograph a panorama in an unexpected way. According to our lecture, sometimes life doesn't fit into a 35mm box. We've all seen landscapes when the walls are thrown wide and the beauty stretches across the page, but he wants something different. He wants to see something that doesn't fit. Something that – when given the space – tells a story it might never have had the chance to otherwise. Jasper and I are on a mission to find it.

His phone rings, startling us both from our quiet survey. He looks around for a moment as if it's not his but some other poor sucker who brought his phone along for a stroll by the water. I giggle at him and fish it out of his coat pocket, answering when I see his sister's name lighting up the screen.

"Hey, Rosie. Your brother didn't recognize the sound of his own phone ringing."

"_That's probably because you and I are the only ones who call him,"_ she laughs. _"You're there with him, so that severely diminishes the likelihood that he's going to get a phone call."_

"You're probably right. I hope I'm the only other girl calling him." I arch an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles and rolls his eyes. He reaches out to take the phone, but I hold up a hand to ask for one more minute. "How's it going, sweetie? Is everything okay?"

"_Oh I'm fine. I have to tell him something he might not like, though. It's probably a good thing you're there."_

"Ha ha, probably so. You'll be gentle, won't you?"

"_Always. It's nothing big, but you know him. Can I talk to him for a minute?"_

"I do, and of course you can. I'll see you later."

"_Sure thing. Later, Bella."_

By this time Jasper is practically crawling all over me in his desperation to speak to his sister. When I finally hand the phone over, he seems panicked until he hears her voice.

"Rosie? Rosie, are you okay?"

His face relaxes once she answers, and his unfailing devotion to her makes me smile. His need to love and protect her knows no limits, and even the slightest hint that she might be in trouble or upset has him scrambling.

"Oh, good," he says, relieved. "No, I know. It just sounded serious from what Bella was saying."

He tenses again briefly, and I imagine she's teeing up whatever big "news" she has to share with him.

"I promise I'll be calm, just please tell me what's going on. You're killin' me, Smalls."

He stops walking suddenly, and only the force of his arm around my waist keeps me from walking straight past him. I turn to face him, a laugh on my lips until I see his grim expression. His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer, and I slide one hand up his chest as the other fists itself in his shirt on the small of his back.

"Well, I don't know what to say. How long?" He nods his head at her reply, his brow furrowed. "I don't know about this, Rose. I guess we can discuss it when I get home."

I could have predicted her response before I heard her raised voice echoing over the phone. I stifle a giggle when I see him cringe away from the receiver slightly.

"No, that's not what I meant at all. I just want to talk about it when I get home so I know more about what's going on." She quiets again, and he looks relieved. "Okay, sure. I'll see you in an hour."

He hangs up the phone, staring at it quizzically for a few moments before he remembers that I'm standing with my arms around him. He looks somehow amused and frightened when his eyes meet mine, and I silently beg the question.

"Rosie… has a date tonight."

"Her first date?" I ask, excited for her.

"Yes," he says, his face tight. He's not quite so excited.

"With who? Do you know him? Is he in her grade?"

"I don't know. Some guy… I don't remember what she said. We need to go home and talk to her about all this. I'm not so sure a date is a good idea. Don't you think she's too young? I think she's too young." His voice reaches new levels of panic the longer he speaks.

"Calm down, Jasper," I soothe. My hand moves in gentle circles over his chest, but he doesn't seem to notice. "She's sixteen years old. I hardly think that's too early for a first date."

"We'll see about that," he says gruffly.

I try not to laugh at his sudden transition into over-protective father figure. He could give Charlie a run for his money at this rate, though I probably shouldn't mention my father or Jasper might try to borrow a sidearm to intimidate the poor boy with. I'm quite certain he'll be intimidated enough when he comes to pick Rosalie up, whether Jasper is armed or not.

"Come on, tough guy," I tease. "You can't forbid her to go on a date, and you know she'd never forgive you for scaring him away. She's a big girl, Jasper. That's all she's ever wanted to be, and you're going to have to let her be one."

"I know, I know. But what if he's a bad kid? He could try to take advantage of her or hurt her or something. I have no idea what to do. I should call Charlie."

"Don't you dare call Charlie," I laugh. He relaxes his stance, pulling me closer. "It could happen, but I think you need to trust her judgment here. She has you for a brother so whoever this guy is, he has some pretty big shoes to fill. Rosie's not going to settle for anything less; she's too smart for that."

"You're right," he admits. He pauses, eyeing me speculatively. "Will you… do you think you could come home with me to meet him? I don't want to do this alone. I might do something to piss her off."

"Of course I will. Don't worry, Jasper. I'll hold your hand."

He laughs freely, and the tension and worry in the air dissipate. I stand tall and pull him close to press my lips to his. He's still smiling against me when I begin to pull away, and we head back to the car hand in hand.

Four hours later, and we're standing alone in Jasper's living room. Rosie has left with a handsome boy named Royce who seems to adore her. Jasper hasn't stopped pacing the living room in the thirty-seven minutes she's been gone. It's going to be a long night.

"Hey, why don't we watch a movie?" I suggest. He hardly seems to hear me, instead mumbling under his breath as he turns to make his way back across the room. "Maybe there's a basketball game on or something. Scrabble?"

"Sure. Whatever you want, Bella."

"Maybe we could just go in your room and practice having sex until she comes home. I bet that'd get your mind off your sister." He stops suddenly, and I laugh as he turns around to face me, his eyes wide and incredulous. "Well that got your attention, didn't it? Typical."

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, crossing the room to pull me into his arms. "I'm just so worried about her. She's my little sister, so I'm supposed to worry. Except she doesn't have a dad to worry about her, so I've got a lot of extra worrying to do."

"Extra worrying? It's a date, Jasper. It's not the end of the world. It had to happen sometime."

"It could have happened sometime much later," he argues, his voice filling with panic again. He's grasping at straws at this point and he knows it. "Like, I don't know… when she's twenty-five or something."

"You can't protect her from everything," I whisper. "She's not a little girl in pigtails anymore. She's a bright, responsible, beautiful sixteen-year-old girl, and you need to trust her to make good decisions."

"But I don't want to," he whines dramatically. "Things were so much simpler when she was little. She had me and Garrett, and that was always enough for her. I want to protect her from everything. This guy's eighteen, Bella. He's not a kid. He's a senior."

"He seemed very nice. Surely you shook his hand hard enough to get a good impression. Charlie would have been proud."

"Ha ha," he deadpans. "You girls just love making fun of me, don't you?"

"Only when you deserve it," I laugh.

I kiss the end of his nose sweetly, but he doesn't go along with the playful gesture. He pulls me closer, and his lips meet mine. My heart stutters at the abrupt shift from innocence to intensity. He steals my breath with his, and by the time our lips part I'm high on his kiss. I cling to him, trying to steady myself.

"You don't fight fair," I accuse.

"I never said I did," he retorts.

"Don't think I forgot what we were talking about. You're not _that_ good a kisser."

"Of course you didn't," he laughs. He leans in closer until his breath tickles my ear, "and yes I am."

I pick out a movie, and we settle into the couch together. He's still tense, darting glances at the door periodically and endlessly drumming his fingers on my thigh. I roll my eyes at him, but he doesn't see. He's too caught up in this worry – this instinct to protect her. He doesn't allow himself to see much else. After nearly two hours of the same, I break the silence.

"What are you so afraid of?" I whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you trust Rosalie?"

"Yes, but –"

"Haven't you done your best to give her a normal, happy life?"

"Of course, but –"

"Isn't dating part of a normal teenage life?"

"I guess, but –"

"Then why don't you want that for her?"

"Are you going to let me finish a sentence?"

"Maybe. Try me."

He laughs, shaking his head from side to side. He pauses for a moment and I watch the distance settle into his face as he stares at the front door. It's not the same distance of his memories, though. His eyes are full of worry and longing instead of empty. His heart beats steadily beneath my hand instead of frantically. He's warm, and calm, and _here_.

"I just can't help it. My whole life has been about protecting her. It's hard to walk away from that. I know it makes me look uptight and maybe a little old-fashioned or something, but I just can't help it."

His brow furrows, and he looks so much younger as his face forms a classic pout. I can't resist poking fun at him again.

"I know, baby, I know," I tease, running my fingers through his hair. He tenses immediately.

This time, it's real: the distance, the panic, the chill in the air between us. I move closer, climbing into his lap and kissing his cheek, his lips, his jaw. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close and whispering soothingly into his ear. He comes back to me quickly, tightening his arms around me and exhaling with force.

"I'm sorry, Jasper," I murmur. "I didn't mean to."

"Hey, what did I tell you about apologizing? It's not your fault."

"I know. It doesn't make me worry less. Where- where did you go this time?"

"I was just remembering this one night… the first anniversary of my dad's death. I remembered when I –" he trails off quietly, rubbing the scar on his hairline absently.

"The coffee table?"

"Yes," he says, smiling sadly. His eyes meet mine, soft and easy instead of forlorn. "You remembered."

"I remember everything you say." We both smile at the memory those words evoke of our first night together. "Every word."

"I just- I don't know, Bella. The one thing I've learned from my mom is that you never know when someone's about to hurt you. She was a good mom, before. She was the last person on earth I ever thought would… you know. Sometimes it was by accident, and sometimes she just lost control. You can't ever be too careful."

"You've got to let Rosie live her life, Jasper. She'll only resent you for it if you don't."

"I don't want that."

"I know you don't, and I know you're scared. She's strong, just like you. She'll probably make a few mistakes, but I know you'll be there to pick her up when she does. She knows that, too."

"How'd you get to be so smart?" he chuckles.

"I was born that way," I answer, shrugging.

"I'm lucky to have you here to talk me down."

"No, Rosie's lucky you have me here to talk you down."

"We're both lucky."

"I'll concede to that."

I pull him close, and he relaxes against me until I'm on my back on the couch and he's curled around me. His weight – instead of being suffocating – warms and soothes me, making me feel whole. Loved. His arms hold tight, and his head comes to rest over my heart. My fingers twine into his hair, twirling stray locks around and around and then releasing them. It soothes us both. We fall asleep together quietly, gradually. The last thing I hear before drifting out of consciousness is Jasper's murmured "I love you" against my breast.

**–*–*–**

_**September 25, 1996 (Jasper is 9, Rosie is 3)**_

_My mom wasn't waiting for me when I got off the school bus, and I wasn't sure why. I said goodbye to Pete, told him I'd see him later, and started walking home by myself._

_As soon as I went in the front door, I heard Rosie talking in the living room. She was standing at the edge of her play pen, in between the couch and the television. Mom had put Charlotte's Web in for her, and she was talking to Charlotte like they were best friends._

_Mom was sitting alone on the couch. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, and I didn't think she heard me come in. She was hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. She looked so sad, and I was pretty sure I knew why._

_It had been a whole year since my dad died, and she still missed him a lot. She didn't even like to sleep in her bed alone, so most of the time she slept on the couch or in with me and Rosie. I thought it was because she didn't like being alone in there at night. It was a really big bed, and I bet it was lonely without him there._

"_Mom?" I asked quietly. She didn't hear me, so I tried talking a little louder. "Mommy?"_

_She heard me that time and turned around. She smiled at me, but she didn't look very happy to see me._

"_Hey, baby. Did I miss the bus? You're home so early."_

"_I was worried you forgot."_

"_Of course not. I guess I didn't notice how late it had gotten. Rosie and I were having fun watching our movie, weren't we, Rosie-bee?"_

"_Jasp-uh! Temply-ton is so silly. He eated lots and lots and lots and now he has a tummy ache."_

"_That's pretty silly, Rosie."_

_She giggled and turned back to watch her movie. I put down my backpack and climbed onto the couch to sit with my mom. She picked up her ice water to take a sip and then put it down, and pulled me close so we could cuddle. I felt like a baby sometimes when she did that, but it made her happy so I didn't care. We watched the rest of the movie together, and Rosie laughed and squealed and talked the whole time. It was her favorite movie, and Mom let her watch it most days while she rested. _

_Mom started the movie over again when we got to the end, and I moved to sit at the table so I could work on my homework. Mom kept sipping her ice water, and Rosie laughed at all the animals and tried to talk to them. She was pretty sure that Charlotte was her best friend._

_I finished my homework just as the movie was over again. I noticed that it was getting dark outside, and my stomach was growling a little. If I was hungry, Rosie definitely was._

"_Umm, Mom?" I asked. When she turned to me, her eyes were a little red and sort of fuzzy. She looked… different. Like she'd just woken up from a nightmare or something and she was still confused about where she was. "Mom, are you okay?"_

"_Sure, baby, I'm fine. What's wrong?"_

"_It's getting late, and Rosie and I are hungry. Are you going to make dinner?"_

"_I don't think so. Mommy's tired today. Why don't we just order a pizza? Do you want pizza for dinner, Rosie?"_

"_Mmm I wuv pizza. Yes, please!"_

"_Jasper?"_

"_That sounds good to me."_

_She stood up to go get the phone, but she tripped a little and had to hold onto the back of the couch for a minute. She laughed and apologized for being clumsy and then walked off to the kitchen. She must have been really tired. She wasn't usually very clumsy._

_I picked up her empty cup to take it to the kitchen and fill it up for her. She was probably thirsty since she'd been drinking so much water lately, and I thought she'd want more water with dinner. It smelled a little funny. It must have been special water._

"_I'll be right back, Rosie."_

"_Okay, Jasp-uh!"_

_Mom was just hanging up the phone when I got into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, staring out the window and playing with her favorite necklace that Dad gave her. She wore it every single day, even though it made her sad to think about him. She played with it when she was really sad, and sometimes she held onto it really tight when she cried._

"_Mom? What kind of water is this? It smells funny."_

"_What?" She looked at me, and then the glass in my hands, and then she looked angry. "Give that back; it's not yours."_

"_I'm sorry, Mom. I just thought you'd want some more water. I was going to fill it up for you."_

"_Of course you were," she said, and her face relaxed. She reached out to me, and I handed her the empty glass. "You're such a sweet boy. I'm not thirsty right now, but thank you for worrying about me."_

_She set the glass down on the table and stood up to hug me. She squeezed a little too tight, and she was shaking a little bit. I couldn't see her face, but I was sure she was crying. I held her tighter until she let go._

_Our pizza came and we all sat on the floor together to eat. Mom got some more ice water, and she let me and Rosie have apple juice. It was just like the picnic we were going to have the night my dad died, but I didn't tell Mom that. She was already upset, and I didn't want to remind her. I didn't like seeing her so sad all the time. Some days she seemed like she was getting better, but other days she was worse. _

"_How was school today, sweetheart?" she asked._

"_It was okay. We talked about Stephen F. Austin today in Social Studies. Did you know that's who made Austin a city?"_

"_I did know that. Did you know that he and your daddy had the same middle name?"_

"_No. Wow, that's really cool!"_

"_That is pretty cool, isn't it? Your daddy's daddy picked that name because he loved Texas history so much."_

"_I like it, too."_

"_So did your daddy," she said. She was talking quietly and sounded sad again. It was dark so I couldn't tell if she was crying again or not, but it sounded like it. "It was his favorite thing in school."_

"_It's my favorite."_

"_You're so much like him," she whispered. She was definitely crying. She reached out to touch my face softly and run her fingers through my hair. "You look just like him, too. Sometimes- sometimes it's hard. You look so much like him."_

"_I'm sorry, Mom."_

"_It's okay, baby. I just miss him. It'll be okay." She took another sip of her water and shivered when she swallowed it._

"_I miss him, too."_

_It was getting late, and Mom forgot about bath time for Rosie. She was already yawning, so I just put her in her pajamas and put her to bed. I listened to her "read" Goodnight Moon to me. She couldn't really read it, but she'd memorized most of the book and she liked to pretend she was reading. It made her happy so I pretended, too._

"_Okay, Rosie, it's nigh-night time. Do you have Baby in there with you?"_

"_Yes. Baby says nigh-night. She wuvs you."_

"_Aww, that's sweet. Tell Baby I love her, too."_

"_Okay, nigh-night!"_

_I turned off the light and grabbed my pajamas so I could go take a shower. Mom was cleaning up the mess from our dinner, and she'd put her favorite CD on to listen to. I tried to hurry as fast as I could so I could go help her. While I was brushing my teeth, I heard a loud crash from the living room, and Mom shouted. I spit out my toothpaste and ran down the hall to the living room. The lights were all off except for the one in the kitchen, and I didn't see her at first._

"_Mom? Are you okay?" _

_She didn't say anything, but I finally saw her. She was crouched in front of the couch, picking up big pieces of broken glass. She was crying, so I went closer to make sure she wasn't hurt._

"_Mom? Did you cut yourself?" She jumped at the sound of my voice._

"_Jasper, you scared me, baby. I'm fine. Just a little accident. Don't come any closer or you'll get hurt. There's glass everywhere."_

"_You're not hurt?"_

"_No, I'm not hurt." She sounded angry. "Just please, let me clean up this mess. Go to bed."_

"_But I can help you," I said. I ran to the kitchen to get the little broom and dustpan and carried it back to her. "Here, use this so you don't cut your hands."_

"_I'm fine, Jasper. Please just go to your room." _

"_But you're going to hurt yourself," I said, inching closer. I reached out to touch her, my hand right above her shoulder. "Please be careful."_

"_Jasper, I told you to go to your room. Please just listen. I can handle this mess myself."_

_She stood up suddenly right when my hand touched her shoulder, and it threw me off balance. She knocked me backwards and I tripped, hitting my head on the corner of the coffee table. My head throbbed painfully, and my eyes went all fuzzy for a minute. I saw my mom rush over to kneel in front of me, but it looked like there were two of her. _

"_M-mom?" I stuttered. "W-what h-happened?"_

"_Oh, baby, are you alright? I'm so sorry... I was so clumsy. I knocked you over and- oh my god, you're bleeding. Hold still and I'll be right back."_

_She stood up to leave but bumped into the coffee table when she tried to get around me. She cursed, and I moved out of her way. I could feel something warm and sticky sliding down my forehead, and I figured it was the blood. I felt dizzy, but I could see a little straighter. I watched my mom in the kitchen, and after a minute there was only one of her to watch. She got a dishrag out and ran some water over it before bringing it back to clean up my cut. The cold towel made it sting, and I tried not to cry._

"_Shh… Let me take care of you," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Jasper."_

"_It hurts."_

"_I know, baby, I know," she cried. She brushed her fingers through my hair slowly. "Shh."_

_She finished cleaning the blood off of my face and then took me to the bathroom to finish cleaning my cut. She put hydrogen peroxide on it, and I flinched away because it stung. She held me still and blew on it, just like my dad used to do. Her breath smelled funny, though, and not like his. She was crying, harder than she had been before. Big tears were falling down her cheeks. I reached up to wipe them away. _

"_Mom, I'm sorry you're so sad. I don't want you to be sad anymore."_

"_I don't want to be sad either, baby. It's just so hard not to be. I miss your daddy every day, and some days it hurts more than others."_

"_Is it going to get better?"_

"_I hope so, Jasper. I really hope so. I just don't think it's going to happen. Your daddy was so special to me. He was my whole heart and my whole world. I just don't know, baby. I just don't know."_

_She pulled out a band-aid to put on my cut and then helped me into bed, kissing my forehead carefully. She started to walk back out of my room, but stopped at the door. She stood there for a minute like she couldn't decide what to do._

"_Mom?" I whispered._

"_Hmm?" she asked. She turned around to face me._

"_Will you stay in here tonight? I don't want to be alone." _

_She smiled and came back to crawl into bed with me. She held me close, and I wondered if I could make her happy like this. I wasn't really scared to be alone, but she was. I could pretend I was if it would make her smile. I could let her hug me and cuddle me, and I could tell her how much I love her. Maybe if I loved her enough, she would forget that he wasn't here to love her anymore. Maybe after awhile, she wouldn't need him anymore. And then maybe one day, Rosie and I would be enough._

_

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**Thank you for reading! There are a couple examples of panorama and the Xpan on my livejournal. daisy3853 (dot) livejournal (dot) com**

**A million thank yous to Legna989 for pinch hitting as my beta so last minute. She's kind of amazing.**

**Underexposed was nominated ****for two awards in the Everything's Bigger in Texas contest – Best Use of Scars and Best Jasper (AH). Voting is now open and closes April 12. There are some fantastic stories nominated, so take a look and vote for your favorites. Click on the banner on the right hand side of the page to vote. jaspersdarlins(dot)blogspot(dot)com **


	19. Overexposed

"**Photography my passion, the search for truth, my obsession." **

– **Alfred Stieglitz**

The trickling of water and the gentle hum of the safelights fill my ears as I enter the darkroom. I pause in the doorway and my eyes strain to adjust to the sudden darkness, seeking out forms and shapes to focus on. I smile when I see the only form that I'd been hoping to come across. His shaggy blond hair looks dull and gray, leached of color under the draining red hue of the safelights, but somehow he's still beautiful. I watch him pause as I approach, surely having heard and sensed my proximity. It's always the same.

He turns his head slightly to the side, just enough so that his profile and the edge of his grin are visible. My stomach tightens, knowing his grin is for me and mine for him. My heart sinks at the same time because suddenly I'm aware that we aren't alone. Two bodies that didn't matter to me before are now imposing on our solitude, and I frown slightly in Charlotte and Jane's general direction. I've reached Jasper now, close enough to hear his soft chuckle and know that he's caught me. I turn to face him, shrugging unapologetically.

He pulls me into his arms, kissing my temple, my jaw, and just below my ear. He lingers there, smiling against my skin when a shiver moves over my body. I wonder briefly if I'll ever stop being surprised at how his touch affects me; it seems only to intensify as we grow closer to one another. I hope it never fades.

"Bella," he murmurs.

"As you were," I laugh, trying to pull away to get set up at my station.

"I'm afraid that's not possible now that you're here."

"I'm afraid you'll have to try a little harder. I have work to do. I don't need your distractions."

"You love my distractions."

"That's beside the point."

"You love me," he whispers. I nod, and he leans in to kiss me again, this time finding the spot beneath my jaw that makes me bite my tongue to keep quiet. He knows it, too, chuckling at my struggle and grazing my skin with his teeth.

"O-o-okay," I stutter shakily. "That's about enough of that. If you can't behave and keep your lips to yourself until after class, I'm going to move over there and work with Charlotte."

"Keep it in your pants, Whitlock," Charlotte calls out cheerily. Jane giggles heartily behind her. "I don't want to know what happens when you guys are alone in here."

"Thanks for your input, Charlotte," he calls over his shoulder. He turns back to me, pouting but taking a step back. "I guess if that's what you want, I'll just keep to myself."

I tug on one of his belt loops, pulling him closer so I can lean in and whisper into his ear. I see his smile before I even speak.

"I promise, your lips can do whatever they want… after class."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart," I laugh, standing on my toes so I can brush my lips against his jaw. "Now let's get these prints done so we can get out of here."

"Yes, ma'am," he teases.

We work quietly, lost in our routine of heated glances, developing prints, and brushing fingers. I slide a print into the developer, watching the shadows appear from the light, filling in the image with shapes and details. Jasper moves in at my back, sliding his paper in with mine. They mingle, brushing against each other as they move back and forth in the developer. I try to concentrate on agitating the tray properly instead of the warmth of the body behind mine. I try not to pay attention to his warm breath swirling in my hair, and instead tilt the tray up and down in a carefully practiced rhythm.

Jasper's phone rings, breaking the tension and the silence. I turn just in time to see him stare at the number on the screen quizzically.

"Rosie?" I ask.

"No, I don't recognize the number. They've called twice before."

"You should answer it."

"I don't know who it is," he argues, silencing the ring and sliding the phone back into his pocket. "If they want something, they can leave a message."

I nod and turn back to our prints, sliding them along into the stop bath. Jane turns on the radio in the corner, filling the room and the silence. I'm grateful for the distraction it offers from Jasper, and we finish printing our work in comfortable silence.

An hour later, we head home together. Rosie's waiting to have dinner with us before heading to a movie with Royce. They both keep me company in the kitchen while I cook, but the air is thick with Jasper's disapproval and Rosie's defiance. It's making me uncomfortable by extension. He hasn't kept her from seeing Royce or argued with her, but he has made it very clear that he's uncomfortable with the situation – and Royce.

Rosalie sits quietly on the counter to one side of me. The sullen look on her face is unfamiliar and out of place. Jasper stays close to my other side, as if my body is enough to block him from the tension between them.

"You know, eventually you guys are going to have to find some middle ground here," I say, wishing I could cut the tension somehow. "This whole silent treatment is getting a little ridiculous."

Rosie sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her head at Jasper as if daring him to make the first move. Jasper grunts and steals a slice of tomato, stuffing it into his mouth as if to give himself an excuse not to speak.

"I'm getting a little tired of talking to myself," I continue, my knife striking the cutting board with more force than entirely necessary. Jasper slides his hand down to rub soothingly on my lower back, and I feel slightly calmer under his touch. "Rosie, what movie are you guys going to see?"

"I don't know," she says quietly. "He's picking the movie."

Jasper's hand on me stills at her words, drawing the calm from my skin as easily as he put it there. I shoot him a warning glance which he ignores.

"He didn't ask you what you'd like to see?" he asks. "That doesn't seem very… considerate."

"It's also not very considerate to try your best to intimidate your little sister's boyfriend."

"That's what big brothers are for. And now he's your boyfriend? You've only been on two dates."

"Yes, he's my boyfriend now. It's really none of your business."

"I think it's my business. I'm still responsible for you."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you." Her words are terse and filled with more venom than I've ever heard from Rosie. She hops off the counter, and Jasper moves his other hand to my waist, pulling me closer. "I just thought that you, of all people, would understand that it's sometimes nice to just be a real kid. A real teenage girl with a normal boyfriend who takes her out to movies and holds her hand and kisses her goodnight on the front porch because he thinks she's beautiful. And maybe he doesn't ask me what kind of movie I'd like to see, but he asked me to go with him and I want to go."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, Rosie."

"You're the one hurting me. You know what Garrett said when I told him? He said 'Good for you, short stack. Keep him in line.' Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Of course he said that. I know you look up to him, but he's not responsible for you. He's not your father."

"Neither are you!" she shouts.

Her face is immediately horrified, and she claps a hand over her mouth. Jasper tenses around me, his fingers digging into my back and my hip almost painfully. I can feel him trembling. I twist in his arms, and although I'm expecting it, his vacant expression still unhinges me. He bows his head, and his eyes stare with nothing to focus on. I run my hands over his chest, whispering to him and willing him to come back from whatever nightmare he's lost in.

He relaxes slowly, wrapping his arms around me and burying his nose in the crook of my neck. His breaths hit my skin in uneven puffs. No matter how many times he pulls himself out of one of his episodes, I can't shake the worry that one day he might not be able to. Every time it happens, I wonder if it will be the last time – if maybe this time I won't feel his muscles relax and watch the life drift back into his eyes. Maybe this time he'll be lost to me. I feel myself come apart in his arms and I hug him closer, relief washing over me.

"Jasper, I'm so sorry," Rosie whispers. "I didn't mean it."

"He knows that, Rosie. He knows. Go get dressed for your date, sweetie. I'll talk to him."

She sniffles as she walks out of the kitchen. I hold Jasper awhile longer before pulling back to look at him. He looks tired, hurt, and ashamed, and I hate to see him that way.

"She didn't mean it," I soothe.

"I know she didn't. It still hurts, but she's right. I'm not her father."

"No, you're not. You're better than. Her father is gone, but you're here. You're here by choice and not obligation. She was just frustrated and she lashed out at you. Don't dwell on it."

"I know he's gone. You don't have to tell me I can't replace him. Trust me, I know that" he argues. He steps away from me, folding his arms over his chest defensively. "I just want to protect her. I know I won't always be able to, but it's hard to let go of that instinct."

"You shouldn't totally let that go. You wouldn't be you if you did. You just need to keep yourself in check."

"How?"

I hesitate, trying to come up with an answer. I take his hand and pull him to the counter where Rosie was sitting, turning to hoist myself up. He moves in close between my knees, his hands resting comfortably on my hips, my hands on his shoulders.

"What were you thinking at the bar that night when Tyler put his arm around me and called me his girl?"

"I was thinking about removing his arm for him, but –"

"But you didn't. You let me handle it for myself. Why?"

"Because I knew you could. I don't understand… did you want me to jump in?"

"No. That's just what I'm talking about, though. There's nothing wrong with the instinct, Jasper. You just need to take a deep breath and think about it before you act on it. She's not in danger, but you're treating her like a five-year-old who has a creepy ice cream man trying to lure her into his truck. She's a big girl, just like me. Respect her enough to show her you trust her."

"I know she is. I just… I don't want her to stop needing me."

"She'll never stop needing you. She just needs you in different ways than she used to."

He opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of his phone cuts him off. He grumbles, frustrated with the interruption, and digs his phone from his pocket.

"It's the same number again," he complains. "I don't know who the hell it is, but they won't stop calling."

"Maybe you should answer it," I suggest. Clearly whoever is trying to reach him is persistent. "Just out of curiosity."

He hesitates for a moment before pressing a button to answer and lifting the phone to his ear.

"This is Jasper Whitlock."

His entire body stiffens when he hears the voice on the other line. His fingers dig into my hip, and he slides closer to me.

"Mom," he whispers. I'm shocked and silent, and my body stiffens, imitating Jasper's. I had been expecting a wrong number or a telemarketer; his mother is the last person I thought would be calling. "Umm. H-hi."

His eyes meet mine, and his are a mixture of curiosity and the always lingering pain. I try to smile reassuringly and reach up to run my fingers through his hair.

"I'm - I'm fine. Rosie's… fine. Umm. I guess you got my letter. How are you?"

His tension seeps from his skin to mine, and the chill from his fingertips and his anxiousness settles deep in my bones. It may as well be my mom – my life – hanging on the other side of this phone line. My future that's about to change for better or for worse. I wear his pain, his uncertainty, and his anticipation as surely as if they were my own. My heart races and my lungs work overtime to catch up.

"I - umm. I think I could do that. I'm not making any promises, but I'd like to try. So would Rosie."

The corner of his mouth turns up, as if the idea that his mom wants to see him brings out the boy inside of him who has always been looking for acceptance and approval. He looks hopeful.

"I'm not sure," he says, hesitating. "We're a little busy with school and stuff. I'll check with Bella and Rose and get back to you about a date."

My breath catches when he mentions my name, and his eyes find mine again. He smiles gently at me, shrugging. I mimic him. I guess if he's ready to tell her about me, I'm ready for her to know about me.

"She's my girlfriend," he says, running his hand from my hip up my side, slowly. "Yes. I will. I'll call you when we make a decision. Goodbye, Mom."

He hangs up the phone, staring at it for a moment before I pull it from his hand and set it on the counter.

"So," I begin. I'm not sure how to approach this conversation, but I'm desperate to know what she said. "Your mom?"

"My mom."

"How'd she sound?"

"Good," he says, smiling brightly. "She sounded really good. I told her we'd figure out a date to meet her and talk things out."

"That's great, Jasper." I pull him forward until my lips meet his with enthusiasm. We kiss just to kiss, our lips content to move together patiently and comfortably. When we finally part, I kiss his nose before leaning my forehead against his, breathing against him. "That's great."

"I - I was kind of hoping," he says, trailing off quietly.

"Hoping?"

"Would you come with me to meet her? I don't want to go alone, and I think I should meet her once before I let her see Rosie… just in case."

"I'd love to," I answer, smiling.

I kiss him again, because I love him. I love his lips on mine, his hands on me, and the way he makes me feel. I love that he wants me to stand by his side, and that he's always ready to stand by mine. I love him.

"I love you," he whispers.

**–*–*–**

_**May 14, 2005 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 12)**_

"_You call that defense?" Garrett laughed. "You're gonna have to do better than that, kid."_

"_Bring it on, old man. You don't scare me."_

"_You're playing like you're scared."_

"_Fuck you."_

"_Watch your mouth."_

"_Watch your back."_

_He laughed again and made his move toward me, but he didn't have anywhere to go. I wasn't a foot shorter than him anymore. One more inch and we'd be the same height. Two and I'd be taller. He turned around and backed into me, pushing me backward toward the hoop. I knew this move; he'd made it a hundred times. He was about to fake left and then spin right. I was ready for him. I played like I was going to follow him, but when he spun back to the right I was waiting for him. He went up to shoot, and my nose was waiting for his elbow. I heard a crunch and pain shot up my nose and radiated throughout my head. My hands went to cover my nose and mouth, and I crouched, my head nearly between my knees. Garrett stopped, horrified, and dropped the ball._

"_Shit. Jasper, are you okay?"_

"_I'm fine," I muttered thickly. I could feel the blood dripping down my nose and over my lips. "It's nothing, trust me. Just a bloody nose."_

"_It's not broken?"_

"_I don't think so," I said. I pulled my shirt up, using the bottom half to wipe the blood from my nose, mouth, and chin, and held it there to apply some pressure and stop the bleeding. I forgot Garrett was still behind me._

"_Holy shit, what happened to your back?"_

_I dropped my shirt immediately and spun to face him._

"_Don't… It's nothing."_

"_Bullshit that's nothing. I'm serious. What was all that? It looks like someone –"_

_We both froze, and I watched realization set in. His half-teasing, half-worried expression faded away. His eyes went wide, and he looked nauseous. I could almost see the synapses firing, working overtime. His eyes darted around, taking in the evidence I knew was written all over my body. He was putting it all together: the bruises, the cuts, the lies, the excuses, and the way I always kept him at arm's length. I could tell the moment he figured it out. I saw something terrifying and unrecognizable behind his usually calm eyes, and a muttered "fuck" escaped him in a hiss. Waves of guilt and panic crashed over me, and I saw my carefully planned future with Rosie circling the drain. It was too soon. My heart beat too hard and too fast while my lungs couldn't seem to work fast enough. I needed more air. I needed more time. I needed a way out. _

_I wished I could rewind my life just five minutes so I could have ducked out of the way of his elbow and avoided all of this. Hell, as long as I was wishing, I wished my dad had never been on that highway that night. I wished the man who killed him had taken a cab home instead of driving. I wished my mother had been strong enough to function without him. I wished I had been able to give her enough of a reason to. I wished the man standing across from me didn't care about me as much as he did so I wouldn't have to see the pain and betrayal written all over his face. I wished I hadn't been the one to put it there._

"_It's nothing, Garrett. Please don't do this."_

"_The hell we aren't going to do this," he spat. "I want answers."_

"_Just calm down. You're scaring Rosie."_

_I looked over his shoulder and saw Rosie sitting on her swing, but she'd stopped moving. She looked frightened, her eyes wide. I didn't think she could hear us, but I was sure she knew something was wrong. She probably saw my bloody nose. I smiled weakly and waved to her. She tried to smile back, but it was a pitiful attempt. Garrett stiffened at my words, and I felt guilty for what I'd said. He turned slowly, plastering a big grin on his face for Rosalie, and waved. Her smile grew, but she didn't take her eyes off of us._

"_Start talking, kid."_

"_There's nothing to tell. Please don't do this to me. It's too soon."_

_He shook his head forcefully. "It's not too soon, it's too late. This has gone on way too long, and I – fuck. I should have known. I should have –"_

_He trailed off, and his face hardened again. He suddenly looked older and wearier than I'd ever seen him. I knew what he was going to do the minute he reached for me. I wasn't afraid of him, but of what he would find. How he would react. We struggled briefly as he tried to pull my shirt off, but the coward in me decided it was time to give in, and I let him do it. I cringed when he lifted the edge of my shirt up and over my shoulders, knowing that it was over. He could see it. All of it. His hand was rough but hesitant when he touched the scars, and I flinched away from the contact. He pulled his hand back immediately, but didn't lower my shirt. _

_My eyes met Rosie's, and even from twenty yards away, I could tell she was crying. I shrugged, defeated. It was all over._

"_What the fuck are these?" he demanded. His voice was low and venomous, and he dropped my shirt and spun me around to face him. "Don't you dare lie to me, Jasper. You look me in the fucking eye like a man and tell me the truth."_

_He gripped my shoulders tightly, and I tensed even though it didn't hurt. I knew there was no way out of this. As used to lying as I was, there was no lie big enough to cover my back. I was going to have to tell him, and that scared the shit out of me._

"_Alright, alright. Just please calm down," I begged, trying to pull myself out of his hold._

"_Fuck, Jasper," he muttered, his face softening. He dropped his hands from my shoulders and took a half-step back, running a hand through his hair. "You've got to know I would never hurt you."_

"_I know that." _

"_What did she do to you?" he whispered._

_I knew I had to tell him, but the words stuck in my throat and wouldn't come out. I knew once I told him, things would be different. Good or bad, everything was about to change. I wasn't ready for that. I was so used to lies and secrecy, but maybe Garrett would be different. The way he was looking at me – the way he looked at Rosie – I knew he cared, more than anyone else ever had. I wanted to trust him. I needed him. I swallowed my pride, ignored the voice telling me to push him away, and started talking._

"_Mom… drinks. She drinks a lot. If she gets angry or if I provoke her… sometimes she snaps. She can't help it, Garrett. She loves us, I know she does. It's just –"_

"_Bullshit, Jasper. You don't do that to someone you love. How long has this been going on?"_

"_Since about a year after our dad died. I think –"_

"_Since – wait, what?" he interrupted, shouting. He paused to think, counting the years. My shame multiplied with each year he tacked on. "That's… shit, Jasper, that's eight years."_

"_I know."_

"_Jesus. Why'd you even stay? Why didn't you tell me? I could've done something. I knew there was _something_ going on, but I never thought – wait, what about Rosalie? Did she hurt her? I swear to God if she laid a hand on my short stack I'm going to –"_

"_She's never touched her, G. Not once. That's why I stayed. Rosie is everything to me. My whole life. She was so young when it all started, and I didn't want them to take her away. I swear to you, if she ever lays a hand on Rosie, we're through. I don't care what she does to me, but she can never touch Rosie."_

"_And you're willing to risk it? To have that even be a possibility? I don't like it, kid. I know you think you're protecting Rosie – protecting them both – but you shouldn't let her do this to you, either."_

"_She's getting better, I promise," I said. He started to interrupt me again, but I held up my hand to stop him. "Please, just let me finish. She's been so much better lately. I gave her an ultimatum and she's been going along with it. She's back in therapy and going to her AA meetings. She seems happier. I threw away all the alcohol, and she hasn't been going out at night. Rosie's happier. I promise, Garrett, things are under control. We just need to make it until I turn eighteen. Then I'll get Rosie out of here and we'll be safe. Please, I'm begging you. Just let me deal with this. Let me finish this my way."_

"_Your way? Is this what doing this your way leads to?" His words were full of sincerity and not sarcasm, but they stung just the same. He pointed to the burn marks on my neck for emphasis. "And your back? That looks like much more than an accident."_

"_That was different – the worst it's ever been. I won't let her do that again."_

"_Won't _let_ her? You haven't _let_ her do any of this. She's done this to you. How do you know you can keep it under control? It sure doesn't look like it's under control to me."_

"_Fuck, Garrett, that was four years ago. I was a kid. I can handle her now. I can handle this."_

_I pushed past him to go get Rosie from the swings and take her home. I didn't know what else to do. He knew the truth, or the worst of it at least. I didn't know what he was going to do with that information. I didn't know if CPS would be at our house before we got home, or if I'd wake up the next morning in a group home without my sister. I couldn't let them take her away from me. If I had to, I'd take her and run. I'd promised my father, and I refused to break that promise. It was the last thing I had to hold onto. _

_I was so lost in my own thoughts as I stormed away, all I could see was my sister in front of me; I almost missed the words Garrett whispered behind me._

"_You could come live with me."_

"_What?" I asked, stunned. I turned slowly to face him. He looked desperate, nodding emphatically and holding his hands up in front of him as if to calm me. As if to beg me to listen._

"_Just hear me out, Jasper. Please. We – we can report this, and she'll lose custody. I'll go to court. I have a buddy who specializes in family law, and we can figure this all out together. We can move away from her… wherever you guys want to go. I want to take care of you guys. You don't have to do this all alone, kid. I can fight for you. I want to. I want to fight for you."_

"_I'm not a kid anymore, and I don't need you to take care of me," I said, but there was no force behind my words. It sounded so tempting. I wanted to believe him. _

"_You're not listening. I _want_ to take care of you. I _want_ to take care of Rosie. This isn't right, Jasper. None of it. You shouldn't have to worry about these things or make these kinds of sacrifices. This is a dangerous line you're walking, and you don't have to. Let me make it right. You don't have to take this on alone anymore." _

_I didn't know what to say at first, and he looked so hopeful. I had been planning this – our escape – for so long, I didn't know how to consider another option. It sounded so good. Too good. I thought about all the good times we'd had – just the three of us. I thought about how Rosie's face might light up when I told her we were going to live with Garrett. But then I thought about him. He wasn't my father, he was like my older brother. He had just started at his new law firm, and we never saw him as much as we used to. He didn't deserve this. It was my burden. He deserved to have a life, not two teenage kids to take care of._

"_I don't know, G. I really think I do. I've been planning this for years. I know I can do it. I have all of these… these "incidents" written down. I have money saved. I have a plan. I think I need to see it through." He was already shaking his head at me, ready to argue his case. I could only think of one more defense. So I pled with him, my words quiet. "Right before he died, my dad told me that Rosie was my responsibility. You just don't understand, G. I _need_ to do this on my own. We're so close… just please, let me finish this."_

"_But I can help you, Jasper. I'm not afraid of her."_

"_I'm not afraid of her either, not anymore. I'm only afraid of losing Rosie."_

"_Don't you think it'd be best for her to get out of there?"_

"_Not yet. Maybe we should have in the first place, but it's too late now. I couldn't let them take her away from me. We're so close to the finish, G. I want to do this for her, for us. For my dad. I've got two months left. I can do this."_

"_You're not her father," he whispered._

"_Neither are you!" I shouted. I could tell my words hurt him, and I immediately felt guilty. I took a deep breath to steady my voice before I spoke again. "She doesn't have a father anymore, and neither do I. I'm doing my best here, Garrett. I'm not perfect but I'm trying to take care of her. I want to give her the kind of life she deserves without all this bullshit. Please."_

"_How am I just supposed to just look the other way?" he demanded. His voice was tired and full of emotion. If there was anything I knew about Garrett, it was that he always did what was right. In every minute I'd ever spent with him, he had always shown me that. I knew I was asking too much. _

"_Because I'm begging you to."_

_I watched him consider it. I knew he didn't want to. I could see him arguing with himself, trying to find a compromise between what I wanted and what he thought we needed. I watched him hesitate, and I saw how uncomfortable he was with his decision. I hated being the cause._

"_I don't like this, kid. I want that perfectly clear." He spoke with force, and I could picture him in court, arguing his cases with the same conviction. "I'm going to go along with this, but on my terms. I am watching you like a fucking hawk. If she lays one more hand on you… if she so much as _breathes_ the wrong way on Rosie, it's over. You got that? We'll do this my way. We'll report her and let the law handle this, the way it should be. I don't want to betray your trust, but if anything changes, I won't hesitate."_

"_I understand. If Rosie's in danger, we're gone. Don't worry."_

"_I'm trusting you here, even though I shouldn't. I want to know everything that's going on over there and I sure as hell don't want either of you alone with her. I'm going to give you a key to my house so you guys can hang there if you need to. I'm trusting you to be upfront with me. I'm trusting you to be smart about this, and to call 911 and then me if anything even starts to go down. Understood?"_

"_Yes, sir. I promise you can trust me. We'll spend more time at the library, too, now that school's almost out. You'll be the first to know if she touches another drink."_

"_Don't make me regret this, Jasper," he begged. I'd never heard him so desperate. "Please. I can't even – I don't know what I'd do if something happened. I love you both too much to let anything else happen. Please don't make me regret this."_

"_You won't. I promise I have it under control. She's not going to touch Rosalie. I won't ever let that happen."_

"_Don't let her touch you again, either."_

_He clapped me roughly on the shoulder and we both walked over to the swings and to Rosie. She eyed me and the blood on my shirt warily, but I laughed it off. She forgot all about her worries once Garrett started pushing her higher and higher. I wasn't so lucky._

_I thought about the next two months of my life, and how everything needed to go exactly according to plan. This thing with Garrett already complicated things. We just had to make it to July 19th without incident. I had already begun to count down. Just sixty-six more days._

_Then we'd be free._

_

* * *

_

**Who's still with me? What do you think about Garrett after all that? Thank you so much for reading. :)**

**Thanks to justaskalice and Lucette21 for their beta work. Their comments and suggestions make everything better, and they're both pretty much awesome. **

**Underexposed was nominated for awards in the Everything's Bigger in Texas contest, the Faithful Shipper Awards, and the Total Eclipse of the Heart Awards. Links for all three are on my profile page if you'd like to vote!**


	20. Dynamic Range

**"Photography is a small voice, at best, but sometimes one photograph, or a group of them, can lure our sense of awareness."**

**– W. Eugene Smith**

My mind drifts slowly from hazy dreams into reality, and I'm suddenly conscious of a few different sensations at once. First, warmth. I feel sunlight spilling over the exposed skin of my back, and my closed eyelids glow red in its wake. Next I feel a barely-there touch of skin on skin, and I smile once I realize that it's Jasper's fingers tracing aimlessly over my sun-warmed back. His hand pauses for a moment before resuming its path – this time with slightly more pressure – and I know he's noticed that I'm awake now. Finally I hear a rustling of sheets, and then Jasper's lips have replaced his fingers. He trails lazy kisses across my shoulder, down my spine, and back up again. I turn my head so that I'm facing him. His final kiss lingers just below my ear, and his words follow.

"Morning, beautiful," he whispers. My smile widens at the way his sweet words are tinged with roughness from sleep.

"I'm sorry… are you trying to butter me up?"

"Is it working?"

"No, it's not," I protest. "You just woke me up. I'm mad at you."

"That's funny – you sure don't look mad," he laughs. His face sobers slightly, and he reaches out to trace the line of my smile with his thumb. "You talk a big game, but that evil little smile gives you away."

"You got me. Look at you, being all perceptive."

"I have my moments."

Truth be told, he has more than just moments. In the months since we met, Jasper has learned how to read me better than anyone else, even Charlie. He can tell when I'm only pretending to be angry, because the left corner of my mouth curls upward like it is right now. He's learned which spots to touch gently to make me shiver, and that the feel of his teeth against the tender skin just below my left jaw makes me cry out. A hand on my thigh or lower back calms my nervous foot-tapping, and a slow, sweet kiss silences my idle worries. He says that when my smile twitches just so, I look exactly like Charlie does when he's trying not to laugh. He knows that when my nose scrunches while I'm talking, it's because I'm embarrassed about what I'm saying.

He watches me so carefully sometimes, as if he's waiting for some intricate secret to unwind. My first instinct is always to shy away from the scrutiny, but I want to be different with Jasper. I already am. His eyes on me are always gentle, and I know I have nothing to fear from his intense and seemingly endless study. He's learning to know me as intimately as I am him, and I feel entirely safe in our little world – discovering each other's secrets.

I know that he taps his fingers rhythmically when he's nervous, but I can silence them with one soothing hand on his knee. When he teases me, he arches an eyebrow without meaning to. I love the way he smiles crookedly when his thoughts are wicked and hesitantly when he's thinking too hard. I know that he gasps when I pull him closer by his hair or his shirt, and that it makes things intense and emotional when my hands or lips ghost tenderly over his scars. I smile when he laughs carelessly because his eyes dance just like his sister's. I love that even from across the room, I can feel his eyes on me as palpably as if he were actually touching me, and that soon after he sees me, he has to find a way to touch me.

"What has you thinking so hard over there?" he asks, drawing me quickly out of my thoughts.

"Just thinking," I hedge. "How long have you been up, anyway?"

"About an hour or so."

"And you've been… what, watching me?"

"The lighting was perfect, coming in through that window behind you. I really didn't mean to wake you, but your skin… I just couldn't help it. You looked so soft."

"I suppose I can't blame you for admiring good lighting," I tease.

"Not good, Bella," he murmurs, dragging a finger from the base of my neck slowly down my spine. His skin barely makes contact with mine, but the feather-light touch sends a disproportionately intense chill across my flesh; I tremble at the sensation. "Perfect."

"Mmmm. That feels –"

Before I can finish my sentence, he flips me to my back and his lips silence mine. Our kiss is slow, patient, and without direction. We kiss to feel our lips entwined – we kiss just to kiss – and it's amazingly sweet. His hands on me are gentle, and I lose track of time and space while wrapped up in him.

The sound of the alarm going off startles us both, and he curses under his breath.

"Time for school," I mumble against his lips.

"Who needs school?" he asks, shutting off the alarm without moving away from me.

"Your sister does and she needs a ride," I laugh. "You're not setting a good precedent for sleepovers. She'll think we're irresponsible."

"Being responsible is overrated."

"Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend, Mr. Responsibility?"

"Call me irresponsible," he whispers. His warm breath sends shivers across my neck. "I just adore you."

"Jaaasper," I whine. "Come on, this is the first time I've slept over on a school night. I don't want to mess things up with her, and you're _so_ not helping right now."

He sighs but nods, collapsing onto his back and fisting his hands in his hair in frustration. I giggle, and he glares at me, causing me to laugh harder.

"You're evil," he accuses.

"You love me," I retort.

His face softens, and he lowers his hands slowly.

"This is true," he says, smiling. I watch as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and scratching the back of his neck with one hand. He turns just enough to glance at me over his shoulder. "So… are you joining me in the shower?"

"You're incorrigible," I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You go shower while I make breakfast."

"Yes ma'am," he grumbles.

I watch him walk into the bathroom before I pull on some pajamas and head into the kitchen. I'm nervous about seeing Rosie this morning, as if I'm meeting her all over again. So far I've only stayed over on the weekends, but somehow being around for the everyday sort of morning seems much more daunting. Add to that the still tense situation between Jasper and Rosie, and I'm trying to ignore the sense of awkwardness looming in the air. I take out my nerves on a bowl of scrambled eggs, beating them into frothy submission.

"What'd the eggs ever do to you?" Rosie asks, startling me.

"Jeez, Rose, where'd you come from?"

"I didn't mean to scare you. You seemed hell-bent on scrambling the eggs into oblivion, so I guess you didn't hear me come in." She takes a seat at the kitchen table, smiling shyly at me, and I can't help but grin in response.

As we ease into conversation, I feel myself relax. This is Rosie. Despite her current disagreement with Jasper, she's a sweet, responsible teenager who loves her brother very much. He has so many roles to fill for her: brother, caretaker, father figure, friend. It's too much sometimes, and boundaries blur. He tries to be everything, and she gets frustrated because he tries to be too much. Despite it all, her pain is his pain, and her happiness makes him happy. Unfortunately, they've learned how to be stubborn from each other. I know they'll get past this, and I intend to be patient with both of them until it blows over.

"So how are things going with Royce?" I ask cautiously. I know it's a sore subject with Jasper, but she might be open to talking about it alone with me.

"Umm, pretty good I guess."

"You guess?"

"Things are great. He's great. He's just… I don't know… a little demanding I guess."

"What do you mean, 'demanding'?"

"Nothing major. He just likes what he likes. I think he's just spoiled or something. He likes to pick what movies we see and where we eat. I told him it pisses me off last time we went out, so hopefully he'll cut it out."

"Good for you," I encourage, smiling. "Hopefully that's all he needs, but just the same, don't let him push you around. You're too good to put up with that."

"I won't. I told him we could go out again tonight, and I picked the movie this time. So I guess we'll see how it goes. Other than that, he's really sweet. I mean, he's my first boyfriend so I don't have a whole lot to go on, but I like him a lot."

"That's good, Rosie. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, B," she says, smiling sadly. Her eyes shift, and she clears her throat. Her fingers tap out a nervous rhythm on the kitchen table. I try to contain a laugh at how eerily similar her mannerisms are to Jasper's. "It's really nice, you know… having a girl to talk to sometimes. Especially with things being weird with Jasper lately. So thanks for that."

"Anytime, Rose. I'm always around."

"You really are," she laughs. "Don't you ever get sick of each other?"

I shrug noncommittally and turn back to the stove, a hidden smile on my face. It's hard for me to understand, so I don't know how to begin to explain it to her. I'm usually a person who enjoys my space. With Jasper, I never feel like he's encroaching on that. A little distance is nice sometimes, but for the most part I feel like we share each other's space so effortlessly. Instead of pushing him away, I pull him closer without even thinking about it.

Jasper walks up behind me as I'm sliding pancakes and eggs onto plates, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my neck. I lean into his touch, smiling contentedly.

"Something smells good," he murmurs.

"Have a seat," I say.

"Rosalie," he offers gruffly. I roll my eyes.

"Jasper," she answers coldly.

"Pancakes?" I interrupt, my forced cheerfulness falls on deaf ears.

"Thanks, Bella," Rosie says sweetly. I notice Jasper's eyes tense slightly at the difference in her tone when she speaks to me, but he shakes it off quickly. He stares blankly at something on the table for a few moments. I run a hand over his shoulder until he seems to remember the breakfast in front of him. He smiles sweetly at me and digs into his pancakes.

"So, Rosie," he begins hesitantly. "I thought maybe we could rent a movie or something tonight. You know, just you and me. It's been awhile since we just, you know, hung out."

I watch her apathetic facade falter slightly as he stumbles through his invitation, and her eyes are soft when she looks up at him. In that instant, she's not the headstrong teenager trying to prove something to her overprotective brother. I can see the little girl who she used to be – the one who looked up to her brother with wide blue eyes and wore her hair in the lopsided pigtails he put them in. She looks innocent, adoring, and ready to forgive him anything. He's staring at his fingers which are diligently shredding a paper towel, so he misses it. By the time he looks up, curious at her silence, she's looking down. His face falls slightly, and I slide my hand down his arm and capture one hand, bringing it down to hold in my lap.

"That sounds nice, Jasper, really nice. But I - I'm going out tonight. With Royce. Rain check? I mean, if you're not busy… maybe tomorrow night?"

"Sure thing, sweetie," he answers quietly, grinning.

She smiles timidly at first, and then more widely, before busying herself with her breakfast.

"I'm picking the movie, though," she teases between bites. "You have horrible taste, and I refuse to sit through another disaster like the last mummy-zombie-horror-whatever we rented last time. I swear it doesn't matter how bad a movie is, you can never just admit defeat. It's like you're determined to stick it out in case it happens to get better."

"You don't like my optimism?" he asks, feigning injury.

"That's beyond optimism, Jasper. It's called being delusional. I'm picking the movie."

"Fair enough," he laughs, and his hand squeezes mine gently. He smiles at me, and I can tell he's relieved. I haven't heard her tease him in weeks, and the light banter between them breathes new life into his demeanor. He seems visibly lighter and sits just a little taller, as if the weight dragging him down has suddenly vanished. I smile, squeezing his hand back and running my thumbs over the cross-hatched web of scars on its edge.

We finish our breakfast, and then Jasper leaves to take Rosie to school while I shower for class. It's still a little different to be here, in his home, in his shower. He left a towel out on the bathroom counter for me, and I laugh when I notice that he bought some of my shampoo so I don't have to use his. He bought me some soap, too, but I use his anyway because it smells like him. I wonder if the feeling that I'm a visitor in his space will ever lessen, and I smile thinking about spending enough time here for that to happen.

I'm ready and waiting by the time he gets back, and we leave for class together. He holds my hand lightly as we walk in, as if without really thinking about doing so. As we take our seats, Mr. Berty passes back our graded panorama assignments. Jasper teases me for getting an A- while he got an A+, and I pretend to pout until he kisses my hand and then my wrist.

Mr. Berty clears his throat, and I reluctantly shift my attention to the front of the room. Jasper tickles my forearm, trying to distract me, so I swat his leg and pull my hands into my own lap. I roll my eyes at him when he smirks victoriously, and slide my chair to the edge of our table.

"This week I want you all to get started on some HDR work – that's High Dynamic Range for those of you living under a rock," he says, pausing while the class chuckles disjointedly. He starts up a slideshow of examples as background to his lecture, and I forget the game I'm playing with Jasper, instead focusing on the lesson and the images. "The beauty of HDR is that it allows you to expand the range of your vision – to see things you weren't meant to see in such detail or clarity with your own eyes or a standard photograph. It adds texture to highlights that would otherwise be blown out, and brings out the details in shadows that would otherwise be obscured. It's a whole new way to look at a scene.

"You can take a sunset and capture every color in the sky without losing the detail in the blades of grass in the foreground. You can pick up every tiny subtlety of the stars and clouds in the night sky without losing the city lights of the skyline to generic brightness. You can shoot an interior or low light scene without having to decide what to sacrifice to shadows. You can find textures and nuances in a landscape that you didn't realize could exist. It doesn't work in every situation, so choose your scene with discretion. I want to see color and vibrancy, and something that would have been overlooked in the shadows with any other image."

The classroom buzzes excitedly as he goes over techniques and camera settings, and Jasper nods along at his instructions. The assignment is fairly loose as far as parameters, so we're free to be creative and search out something unique. Some of the examples he showed us have my head spinning with possibilities I can't wait to explore. When class is over, Jasper and I head home quietly, both too caught up in our own ideas to make more than stilted conversation.

Later in the evening, we're alone on the couch at Jasper's house. I'm watching a testament to his bad taste in movies – which, as Rosie said, he's refused to give up on until the bitter end – and he's snoring lightly, dozing off with his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his hair gently, twisting waves around my finger slowly and then letting them loose. I eye the remote with annoyance, wishing it weren't just out of my reach so I could turn off the movie without waking Sleeping Beauty.

My phone vibrates on the armrest beside me, and I see Rosie's name and number flash across the screen. My heart skips a beat, knowing she's supposed to be out on a date, and realizing that she's calling me instead of her brother. I answer nervously, keeping my voice as hushed as possible.

"Rosalie?"

"_H-hey Bella. Are you b-busy?"_

"Not at all. What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"_I'm fine now," _she says, more firmly this time. _"Can you please come p-pick me up?"_

"You sound like you've been crying."

"_I have been, but I'm okay now. Please? I'll tell you all about it in the car."_

"Of course I will. Where are you?"

"_I'm at the Drafthouse downtown on Sixth."_

"I'll be there in ten. Wait for me inside and I'll call when I'm there."

"_Thanks, B. Please don't tell him yet. I will when I get home."_

"Sure thing, sweetie."

I hang up the phone and then slide carefully out from beneath Jasper. I push a pillow under his head in place of my lap, and he grunts but doesn't wake. I write a note and leave it on the coffee table, then grab the keys and head out.

My fingers drum nervously on the steering wheel as I drive, and I try not to think about all the different kinds of trouble Rosie could be in, especially being downtown on a Friday night. I try not to think about what Royce could have done to make her cry. Jasper said he had a bad feeling about him, and I selfishly hope he's not right – selfishly, because I've been the one supporting this. I've been the one defending Rosalie to her brother, when maybe I should have been more cautious. She said Royce was spoiled and demanding, but surely she would have mentioned anything more sinister. I think back to my conversations with Jasper about his mother, and about how there were "accidents." About how even though she claimed to love them, sometimes pain comes when you least expect it, and from people you never thought would hurt you.

I press my foot down more firmly on the gas pedal, suddenly queasy with guilt and fear. I try not to picture Royce hurting her, because I don't think she or her brother could handle something like that. Their history with their mother and the tenuous circumstances around her reappearance are already a strain, and I'm not sure what a new trauma would do to either of them.

Sixth street is blocked off to accommodate the weekend nightlife, so I pull up on the side street a few doors down from the Drafthouse. I find her number and press send with shaky fingers, hanging up once she says she'll be outside in a moment.

She climbs in the car, and I survey her quickly under the street lights filtering in through the windows. Aside from slightly red, puffy eyes and smudged mascara, she doesn't look hurt. She's staring back at me, strong and defiant. Her eyes are hard and sure, despite the traces of tears, and she looks so much like her brother in this moment.

"Did he hurt you?" I ask quietly.

"Not exactly," she says, and for a moment I can hear a slight shakiness in her voice. It vanishes when she continues. "But I broke up with him. You drive, and I'll tell you."

I shift out of park and navigate through the crowded downtown streets. Rosie is quiet for a moment, but I wait until she's ready to talk. Once we're out of downtown and passing over the lake, she speaks.

"He let me pick the movie, like he said he would, and things were going just fine. I thought it would be fun to see it at the Drafthouse, and we ended up getting a group together to meet us down there. Afterward… well… Royce has a fake ID, and so do some of his friends. He tried to get me to go with them to one of the bars down on Sixth Street. He said they'd let me in and he could buy me drinks." She pauses, breathing deeply.

"Oh, Rosie."

"I told him no. He doesn't know much about my mom, but he knows she was an alcoholic and that Jasper took custody of me. He knows enough to know better. He got upset when I turned him down in front of his friends. He tried to sweet talk me into it. He kissed me, and his friends were snickering behind him. I pushed him away, and he laughed it off. He tried to kiss me again. I – I let him get closer, and then I –"

Her fists clench in her lap, and I reach an arm out, pulling one hand into mine. I see her turn to me out of the corner of my eye, and I pull over onto a side street so I can pay attention. I shift into park, taking her hand in both of mine and waiting.

"It's okay, Rosie. You can tell me."

"He tried to kiss me, and I let him lean in closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I could taste it on my tongue from before. He must have snuck some into the movie or something. I closed my eyes, and that was all I could smell. I was crying, but I don't think he noticed. He was too close, and the smell – I just – I panicked. I kneed him in the balls, and he fell down. He was cussing, and his friends were laughing. I told him to leave me alone and then I ran inside to the bathroom to call you. I didn't know what else to do."

She cries again quietly, and I pull her awkwardly into my arms over the console.

"Shhh, it's okay now, sweetie. You did the right thing. Jasper's going to be so proud of you for standing up to that guy."

"He w-was right," she cries. "I shouldn't have been so stubborn. H-he knew something was wrong with Royce. He always knows. God, I was so stupid."

"People fool you sometimes, Rose, but you can't let that keep you from living your life. You take your time learning to trust someone, and one day it'll pay off. This guy was a rat, but, hey, you know what? Lesson learned. You make mistakes, you grow stronger. Next time, who knows?"

"He's going to say 'I told you so,' and I deserve it."

"He will not. He just worries about you. You mean everything to him. The thought of someone hurting you… you just better hope he doesn't meet this guy in a dark alley or something. Talk about trouble."

She laughs, and I let her go, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. She wipes her eyes and sits up a little straighter, and then she's the strong Rosalie that I've come to know. She squares her shoulders, and I move to shift back into drive.

Jasper is waiting up for us when we get home. He pulls Rosie into a fierce hug, and she weeps silently on his shoulder. He mouths "thank you" to me, and I smile, shrugging, and motion that I'll wait for him in his room. They need privacy.

I change into my pajamas and curl up in the middle of his bed, suddenly exhausted. So many emotions wash over me, it's nearly impossible to discern them. I feel relief, largely. Relief that she's not physically hurt, and that she was able to stand up for herself. I close my eyes and concentrate on that, letting the others wash away. My mind goes soft and hazy, my eyelids heavy, and I feel myself drifting off into sleep.

I wake gently to lips on my neck and timid hands against the skin of my stomach. I lean back, feeling Jasper's warm body behind mine, and hum in appreciation. His hand pulls me closer, his lips move more urgently, and I turn toward him.

"That's twice in one day," I whisper groggily. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"It'd be a good way to go," he murmurs against my neck.

"How's Rosie?"

"She's fine. She's good. We talked about everything, and I think we're okay now. I'm going to kill that kid if I ever see him again, but other than that – "

"I told her you would," I laugh. "You'd do anything for her, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would. She's my sister. You girls are my whole world these days."

I can barely see him in the darkness, but I feel his breath on my cheek and I feel how close he is. I can imagine his expression – the love, the sincerity. He speaks without hesitation or embarrassment, and his words fill me with warmth. I curl into him, silently enjoying his embrace.

"I hope you don't think this was your fault somehow," I whisper after awhile.

"I know it's not," he answers, sighing. "It's just hard for me. I want to make her life easy and make sure she's happy, but I guess I can't protect her from everything."

"No, you can't. Sometimes a girl has to make her own mistakes. You take good care of her, though. You always have. You're such a good man, Jasper."

"It's more than that," he says slowly. His hand moves to my cheek, his fingers thread their way into my hair. His eyes search mine in the moonlight, and his next words are quiet, as if he's testing my reaction. "I didn't just take care of her, Bella. We took care of each other. I protected her as best I could, and she gave me… well… she gave me a reason to live. A reason to get up in the morning. We both lost everything, and some days it would have been so easy for me to give up. I could have wasted away like my mom, or worse. But Rosie wouldn't let me. She kept me grounded. She kept me… _me. _If I hadn't had to keep it together for her, I'm not sure what kind of man you'd be looking at right now."

I kiss his chin and pull him close, resting my head against his chest. His arms tighten around me, and I feel his body relax.

"Does she know that?" I whisper.

"I'm not sure."

"Maybe she should."

"Maybe you're right."

"Of course I'm right. You should get used to it."

"Why is it so easy to talk to you?"

"Because you love me, and I love you."

"I really love hearing you say that."

**–*–*–**

_**May 27, 2005 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 12)**_

_I pedaled faster, the weight of my empty locker on my back. The last day of school was finally over. The last day of high school. One more milestone survived, one day closer to my goal. In just under two months, I'd be eighteen. Mom was in therapy and going to all her AA meetings, and Rosie's and my future was finally within reach. _

_I rode up to Rosie's school, and she was waiting for me out by the bike racks. She stood next to a boy I didn't recognize, smiling but not making eye contact with him. I could tell he wanted her to, but she seemed to be looking for someone else. She finally saw me, and a bright smile broke out across her face. She waved goodbye to her friend and pushed her bike over to me._

"_Jasper! How's it feel to be a college boy now?"_

"_I'll let you know in August," I laughed. "I don't feel any different yet."_

"_Are you… are you going to move out then?"_

_She looked nervous, and I realized that she didn't know my plan. She thought I was going to leave her. Alone. With Mom._

"_Of course not. Dorm life doesn't sound very exciting. Besides, I have a pretty cool roommate already." I elbowed her gently, and she smiled again._

"_Let's go," she said. "I think we should celebrate."_

"_I think so, too, but we better head home first, sweetie. Mom's waiting for us."_

_She tensed slightly, but smiled. I knew being around Mom still made her nervous, even though she was doing so much better lately. Rosie had been happier the past couple months, but something was different. The last time Mom "got better" – right before she tried to kill herself – Rosie had fallen for it. She let herself believe that Mom was happy, that she cared enough to get better and be a mom for once. She let the empty smiles and feigned interest fool her, just like I did. I had never told her the real story behind that day, but I was sure that she somehow knew. I hated to see her so jaded, but this time she wasn't falling for it. At twelve years old, she seemed resigned to the fact that her mom had checked out on her. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and that killed me._

_It wasn't that Mom was doing anything _wrong_ necessarily. She was going to her meetings every night and to her therapist twice a week. She was home when she should have been, she cooked dinner and went grocery shopping, and she tucked Rosie into bed every night. She hadn't been the same since Thanksgiving, but she was meeting her end of our bargain. She was clean and sober, and she was participating in Rosie's life again. Something was off, though, and I couldn't figure out what it was. _

_We rode up to the house and walked our bikes into the garage, propping them up in their spots along the wall next to Dad's old car. I felt the same pang of loss I did every time I saw it there, trapped underneath its cover, just as dead as he was. It was a classic that he only drove on special occasions, and Mom never drove it or even took it out of the garage. She'd never get rid of it either, even though I doubted anyone had even taken the cover off since he died. I let my hand drag along the cloth-covered hood as I walked out of the garage, Rosie trailing behind me. _

_We snuck quietly into the house, a lingering habit, and found Mom curled up on the couch with a book and a bottle of water. I got sick of checking to make sure her glasses of ice water weren't really vodka, so I started buying bottled water instead. It was better for both of us if I didn't have to make it so obvious that I was watching her. She seemed less embarrassed since we'd made the switch. I didn't hug her as much to check her breath, or sneak sips of her water while she wasn't paying attention. _

_I still checked the house every night after she went to bed. I searched all the cabinets and anywhere else she could hide something. I checked her car and looked for receipts in her purse. When she was out of the house, I searched her room. I double-checked the bills from her therapist to make sure she was there when she was supposed to be, and most nights I drove her to her AA meetings. If they were open meetings, sometimes I went in with her. I didn't like feeling like her warden, but I wasn't willing to risk a relapse so close to the end – especially with Garrett watching. _

_I knew he was uncomfortable with the situation to say the least, and I really didn't want to give him a reason to regret trusting me. He had started dropping by unannounced after work and on the weekends. He'd made more of an effort to get us out of the house and to include my mom when he could, so she wouldn't be left at home alone as much. If he couldn't stop by during the day, he called instead. True to his word, he was watching us like a hawk, and I wasn't going to let him down._

"_Hey Mom," I said. She jumped, startled, and turned to face us._

"_Oh, hey, kids. I didn't hear you come in. How was school?"_

"_It was good," Rosie said. "Jasper's all done with high school now."_

"_That's right, today was your last day," Mom said, smiling. "How does it feel to be a high school graduate?"_

"_Same as it did to be a high school student," I laughed, shrugging. "Graduation's tomorrow. Maybe it'll hit me then."_

"_Maybe so. We should go out to a special dinner tonight, to celebrate. Where would you like to go?"_

"_Umm, maybe tomorrow night, Mom. It's Friday. You have… you know… somewhere to be."_

"_Oh, right. I almost forgot," she said. Her face fell, and I felt bad for reminding her. I shouldn't have had to remind her, though. "How about after graduation, then?"_

"_Sounds good."_

_She smiled weakly at me before going back to her book, and I led Rosie down the hall to our room. We had a couple hours until dinner, and then Mom would have her meeting. Rosie collapsed onto her bed. She looked exhausted and upset, and I wasn't sure how to make it better._

"_Hey, Rosie, why don't you and I have a movie night tonight while Mom's at her meeting?" I asked. She immediately perked up, looking up at me with wide eyes and smiling shyly. "It's been awhile since we hung out, just you and me. We can make ice cream sundaes. I'll let you pick the movie and everything."_

"_Really?"_

"_Really really," I laughed._

"Harry Potter_?"_

"_Sure, if that's what you want."_

_She jumped up off the bed and hugged me. I held her close, smiling into her hair. Sometimes it was so easy to make her happy._

_We ate a quick family dinner, and then Rosie didn't waste any time getting everything ready for ice cream sundaes. Before Mom had even closed the front door, we had everything ready and the movie queued up. I laughed when I looked at Rosie's sundae. She had about eight maraschino cherries on top because that was her favorite part._

_Mom came home before Hermione brought out the time-turner. She offered us an exhausted smile before grabbing another water from the refrigerator and heading to bed. I tried not to be disappointed, but I wasn't really surprised. She seemed better, but still so distant. _

_The whole thing seemed like such a hollow victory. I wasn't stupid enough to think she'd ever be quite like she was before he died. She used to be so alive – such a force. Now she was a shadow of herself. Did the fact that she was trying count for anything? I wasn't sure anymore. She was trying because I _forced_ her to try. She was going to her meetings and therapy, and not stepping a toe out of line because I threatened her. I had thought that when faced with the idea of losing us, she'd make the effort to sober up. I'd thought we would be enough of an incentive. _

_But when I thought about what I'd said to her at the hospital, I wondered if it was just the threat of me going to the police and CPS that scared her. I wondered if she was scared of losing us or just scared of what would happen to her if we reported her. I hated her for making me consider something like that. I hated her because it was believable. I hated her because, despite everything, I didn't really hate her. I resented her, I was ashamed of her, I hated the way she made me feel about myself and what she put Rosie through, but at the end of the day – at the end of every day – she was my mom. She was the last bit of my family. I loved her, and I wanted her to love me. _

_The day when I'd have to turn my back on her was getting closer by the minute, and the guilt was going to eat me alive if the nerves didn't. I had been counting down the days for so long, but I hadn't counted on feeling this way. I knew when the day came I'd be a man and go through with it, but until then, I wasn't sure how to deal with it. Garrett was the only person who knew about my plan. Maybe it was time to change that._

_The movie was over, so I picked up our bowls and carried them to the sink. Rosie wandered down the hall to our room to get ready for bed, and I followed her. _

"_Hey, Rosie?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_I, umm – I want to show you something. Something important. Do you – well, do you think you can keep a secret? From everyone? Even Mom."_

"_Of course I can."_

_I waved her over to my bed and reached under the mattress for my notebook. I climbed onto the bed, sitting across from her. She looked at the notebook in my hands with confusion._

"_You have to promise not to show this to anyone until it's time to, okay?"_

"_When it's time for what?"_

"_When I turn eighteen, and it's time for us to go and live on our own," I whispered._

_She looked confused for a moment before her eyes widened, and I knew she understood._

"_On our own?" she asked. I nodded. "Without… without Mom?"_

"_I have everything we need in here, Rosie. All the times she hurt us, every time she did something wrong. When we show that to the police, they'll let me take you away from her. I've been saving my money and keeping track of everything. When I'm eighteen, I'll be an adult. I'll be able to get you out of here. We won't have to worry about her hurting us anymore."_

_She stared at the book with wide eyes, and I was worried that I'd scared her. Maybe this wasn't what she wanted. Maybe she wasn't ready._

"_She won't hurt you anymore?" she whispered, so quiet I could barely make out the words._

"_Never again, Rosie. I promise."_

_The corner of her mouth turned up into a smile, and she looked up at me. I could see my own excitement and anticipation mirrored in her eyes._

"_Really?"_

"_Really really."_

_I handed her the notebook, and she flipped through it carefully, as if it were something precious. Between the way she looked at it and the hope I saw in her eyes, I knew it was. That book was the key to our future, and now Rosie knew about it. Now she knew there was an end to this, that we weren't just stuck in this balancing act forever. _

"_So… just you and me?" she asked._

"_You and me, Rosie-bee. We're going to be okay."_

_I knew nothing in the world would ever be as beautiful as her smile at that moment._

_

* * *

_

**Thank you so much for reading. I'm sorry for the gap between posts… I should be back on a weekly schedule now. :) You can check out my livejournal for some examples of HDR photography etc. daisy3853 (dot) livejournal (dot) com**

**I have a short drabble that goes along with the BPOV in this chapter. It's JPOV, and some of you might have seen it already… but if you're new let me know and I'll send it your way.**

**Thank you so much to justaskalice for being such an awesome betasper, and to Lucette21 who is every bit as lovely in real life as she is online. They make everything better.**


	21. Parallax Error

"**Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever... it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything." **

– **Aaron Siskind**

I stare blindly out the window, watching the buildings fly by in a blur of concrete and brick. My hand rests on the center console, entwined loosely and comfortably with Jasper's. His thumb moves lightly over mine, his barely-there touch almost tickling but still pleasurable. Every so often he moves both our hands to the gear shift, and I feel the car pause momentarily as he guides it into a new gear. I smile each time it happens, hoping he does it because he doesn't want to let go of my hand any more than I want to let go of his.

We're on our way to Jasper's first appointment with his new therapist. She came highly recommended by Kate, and both Kate and Garrett are thrilled that Jasper has agreed to try therapy again. Jasper is less excited and more nervous, but determined to give it a chance. He wants Rosie to try as well, and she agreed to start after he finds someone he thinks they can both be comfortable with. Hopefully that person is Dr. Kelly.

We pull up to her office, which is in a tiny bungalow just west of downtown. We walk in together, Jasper's hand resting gently on my hip. I feel relaxed and at home as soon as we step foot on the front porch. There's an old-fashioned porch swing and a screen door, and if not for the wooden sign on her front lawn, I might think we were visiting a friend instead of a psychologist.

Jasper's hand slides across my back and down my arm until he's gripping my hand again. I offer a reassuring smile, and he winks before opening the door to the small reception area. He looks as calm as I feel as he checks in with the receptionist, and I'm relieved that he's so at ease here. He smiles at me sweetly before leading me to sit together on a small love seat in a cozy corner. I pull his arm around me and settle into him, leaning comfortably against his chest. His hand rests on my hip, and his thumb sneaks up to tease the skin beneath the hem of my shirt. I help him balance a clipboard on his knee, and he uses his other hand to fill out forms as I flip the pages for him. It doesn't take long before he's called back to Dr. Kelly's office, and he pulls me right along with him.

She's sitting at her desk when we walk in, but quickly rises to greet us. Her wavy red hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and I'm struck by how young and casual she looks – the farthest from intimidating I can imagine. I like her already.

"Hello there, you must be Jasper."

"Yes, ma'am, Jasper Whitlock," he says politely, shaking her proffered hand before she turns to shake mine as well. She eyes me appraisingly for a moment, but her smile puts me at ease. "This is Bella Swan, my girlfriend. Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, Dr. Kelly."

"Please, call me Maggie. It's nice to meet you both. Make yourselves comfortable."

"Are you sure you want me to stay?" I ask. "I don't want to be in the way or anything."

"Don't be silly, Bella. I'll leave the decision up to Jasper, ultimately, but you're welcome to sit in with us for awhile. I would like to have some time alone with Jasper as well. Depending on how things go, it might even be a good idea for you both to come in together at times. Some people prefer having that sort of support system, while some prefer the freedom that comes with individual sessions. We'll just see how things progress, and what Jasper is comfortable with. Sound good?"

"That sounds great, thank you," I say.

"That's good for me, too," says Jasper. He turns to smile at me. "I'm comfortable with whatever she is. I don't like keeping secrets from her."

"That's very good to hear," she says, smiling. "Before we get started, I just have one rule to share with you, and it goes nicely with what you just said. I obviously can't force you to tell me anything, so in a way I'm always going to be at your mercy here. It's your choice to share with me, or not, and hopefully we can work toward building enough trust in this relationship that you feel safe talking to me about anything you want to.

"That being said, lying has no place in this room. It hurts you and your progress, and it hurts our relationship because I'm always going to be able to tell when you aren't being truthful. So if you're ever uncomfortable, or if we go too far and you're not ready to talk about something, I want you to be honest with me about it. Don't try to make up an answer or tell me what you think I want to hear. It's my job to push you so we can make progress, but it's very important to me that you feel safe here. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jasper agrees, and we both nod.

She spends a few minutes going over Jasper's paperwork and asking general questions to break the ice. She tells us a little about herself and her family and asks about ours. Before I have time to think about it, she's established an easy camaraderie with both of us. We tell her a little bit about Jasper's situation and our concerns about his episodes, and then halfway through the session, Maggie suggests that I excuse myself so they can speak privately for awhile. I squeeze his hand before I go, my eyes questioning his, and he reassures me with a smile and a brush of his lips against my palm.

I curl up on the same love seat we sat on before and pull out a book to occupy the half hour I have to wait. My mind wanders, though, thinking about Maggie and what we talked about. I hadn't been expecting her to suggest that I come to Jasper's sessions with him; I really only came today for support. The more I think about it, the more the idea makes sense. I want a life with Jasper: a future. I don't just want to see him work through his problems, I want to struggle through them with him. I want to be by his side, good times or bad. I want him by mine.

It's not the first time I've thought about our future, but for the first time my vision is concrete and realistic. It's not going to be a fairytale come true, but it's going to be perfect and beautiful in its own way. It'll be scary and fraught with uncertainties, thanks to his mother and his sensitive past. It'll also be full of love, whispered confessions, touches only he knows how to give, and kisses that make my mind go hazy. It might not be easy, but it will be worth it, and I feel like this is our first tangible step toward that future.

"Bella?" My name on his lips and his hand on my cheek pull me out of my daze. "You ready, beautiful?"

My eyes meet his, and I wonder if he's had similar thoughts.

"Definitely," I answer.

He smiles down at me, and for a moment, I think he understands that I was talking about more than going home.

The drive home is quiet and contemplative, with my hand in his and low music stealing the silence. The house is empty when we get there, and we settle into the couch together. Rosie's getting a ride from Tanya so we have a few minutes alone before she gets home.

"So, I was thinking," he begins, hesitantly.

"Thinking, huh?"

"Dangerous, I know," he deadpans.

"Were you thinking about anything in particular, or just practicing your technique?" I tease. I move to my knees and swing one leg over his until I'm sitting in his lap. His hands move to grip my hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin of my waist. He grins, eyes roaming for a moment before they find mine again.

"Now you're distracting me from what I was thinking."

"Well we can't have any distractions, can we? I'll just –"

I try to slide off of his lap, but his hands hold me firmly in place.

"I'd rather you stay right where you are, if you don't mind," he laughs. "I was just thinking… I think I'm ready to try with my mom. I think I should call her and set up a time."

"If you're ready, I think that's great. Have you talked to Rosie about it?"

"Yes. She agreed that I should meet with Mom first, just to get an idea of how she's doing. I don't want her to go through what I did the last time I saw her. She's okay with that."

"Then I say go for it. Let's do it."

"I was thinking about Sunday. Will you – do you still want to come with me?"

"Of course I do, if you still want me there."

"I always want you with me."

I grin stupidly, unembarrassed by how his words affect me. He lets me wrestle his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, and I hand it to him, arching an eyebrow teasingly. He grins wickedly, and I press my lips together, wishing they were kissing him instead.

He stares down at the phone in his hand, and his confidence dissipates. He looks nervous and insecure, and his worries echo in me. I reach out to run my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently to soothe him. He closes his eyes for a moment, smiling and leaning into my touch. When he opens his eyes again, he looks determined. He dials quickly, and I shift forward so he can hold me to his chest.

"Umm… Mom? Yeah, it's me – I mean, it's Jasper."

I feel his heart thumping erratically and the rise and fall of his chest against mine. When he speaks, the sound vibrates through his chest and into mine. I pull myself closer, enjoying the sensation.

"I was wondering if you might be able to meet up on Sunday afternoon," he says, so fast the words are almost hard to discern. I wonder if he thinks saying them faster will make it easier, or if he's worried he won't go through with it if he hesitates at all.

I pull his free hand to me, kissing his palm softly. He links his fingers with mine, and I pull our hands close to my side.

"Okay, great. I guess we'll see you then." He pauses, lifting my fingers to his lips to brush a kiss against them. "Yeah, it's just me and Bella this time. We'll see you Sunday."

He hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath, pulling me tighter against him. We sit wordlessly, and time passes without thought or consideration. I concentrate on his arms around me and the steady rhythms of our hearts and breaths mingling.

"Is she asleep?" Rosie whispers.

"Hard to tell. She's not snoring yet, so – "

"Excuse me?" I interrupt. I sit up quickly, smacking Jasper's chest as hard as I can manage from so close. "I think we all know who the snore machine in this room is."

Jasper pouts dramatically, crossing his arms and jutting out his lower lip. I kiss him quickly and slide off his lap before he can catch me.

"Don't pout, you big baby," Rosie laughs. "You know it's true."

"You girls just love making fun of me, don't you?"

"At least we love you and tease you, right?" I ask. He shrugs. "How was school, Rose?"

"It was fine. It's been a long week, though, and I'm glad it's over. How was your… appointment, Jasper?"

"Good, actually. I really liked Dr. Kelly, and I think you will, too. It's weird, talking about all that stuff. She agreed to go slow, though, and so far so good. She has a couple ideas about the little episodes I've been having."

"Really?" I ask. He hadn't mentioned it in the car, and I suppose they spoke about it while I was waiting in the reception area.

"Yeah, I wanted to wait until Rosie got home so we could talk about it together." He pauses, reaching for my hand and holding it in his lap tightly. Rosie moves to sit across from him on the coffee table, and we wait for him to continue. "She said it's just a guess, for now, based on what I told her about how it feels when it happens – like I'm actually reliving what happened. I told her what you said about my heart rate and breathing picking up and my skin getting cold and clammy."

He hesitates again, and for a moment his face falls back into the insecure mask that his past always drags out of him. I pull his hand to my lips, kissing the scars along its edge. He gives me a small smile in return.

"Jasper, you can tell us," Rosie says. "It's going to be okay."

"I know it will be. And it's not for sure yet, just a possibility. She's thinking it might be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

The weight of his words sinks in slowly, surrounding us, suffocating us. I notice a tear starting to make its way down Rosie's cheek.

"But isn't that... why didn't we… how didn't we…" Rosie stutters, trailing off quietly.

"Apparently sometimes the symptoms don't show up for months or years after the trauma, especially if it's prolonged like with what happened to us. She said that might explain the flashbacks and the physical symptoms. She's going to work with me on figuring out what the triggers are and how to work through them. Hopefully you girls will be able to help me with that."

He reaches out for one of Rosie's hands, and she's crying harder now. He lets go of my hand so he can pull her closer, bringing her to sit next to him on the couch. She collapses into tears on his chest, and he holds her, rubbing gentle circles on her back and whispering to her.

"Hey, hey, it's going to be okay. It's something I can work through with your help and Bella's, and Dr. Kelly too. I'm fine, sweetie. I'm fine."

"Th-this is all my fault," she sobs. "She hurt y-you for so l-long."

"Don't you dare put this on yourself, Rosalie. Don't you dare. None of this was your fault. It was always her fault, and I should have seen that sooner. I thought we could be better for her and we could make her want to be better for us. She was sick, sweetie, so sick. I took care of you because I love you. No one forced me to do the things I did."

I sit silently, watching the way he cares for her. So effortlessly. So willingly. Her sobs gradually quiet into hiccoughs and then silence, but he never ceases his whispered words or loosens his comforting embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Jasper. I never should have – I should have listened. I'm so sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong."

Rosie sits up slowly, looking at me briefly before settling her eyes on Jasper. She looks scared, and he stiffens once he notices, pulling her hands into his.

"Jasper, what do you remember about that day? The day she… well… the day she hit me. When you came home, what did you notice?"

"What do you mean, what did I notice? I found you, and Garrett was there… I remember everything about that day."

"Didn't you ever wonder why she hit me?"

"I wasn't there. I know that, Rosie, and I'm so sorry. I should have been there."

"That's not what I'm talking about. It was _my_ fault, Jasper. Mine. She found me with your notebook. I told her what was in it. I told her you were going to save me. I told her you were going to take me away from her. She was furious and so, so wasted. She – she tried to take it from me."

"Rosie, I –"

"Please, just let me get finish, Jasper. I knew how important it was so I tried to run away from her, but she caught me. I was screaming, and that was when Garrett came in. He pulled her off me, and I took the notebook and hid in the closet until you came and got me."

Jasper is silent and his eyes are blank. I don't have to feel his chest to notice how much his breathing has quickened, and I imagine his heart has done the same. I slide closer, placing one hand over his heart and sliding the other up his neck and into his hair.

"Jasper?" I murmur. "Jasper, baby, it's okay. Shh."

"I'm sorry, Bella," Rosie says, and her tears are back now. I shake my head, trying to reassure her.

"It's not your fault."

"Why didn't you tell me, Rosie?" he whispers.

"I didn't know how. I was so scared. It took me all of five minutes to ruin everything you'd worked so hard for. I'm sorry, Jasper. I let you blame Garrett and yourself, and I should have just told you the truth."

He pulls her back into his arms, kissing her forehead sweetly and holding her tight.

"It's okay, sweetie. You didn't ruin anything. You were just a little girl. It's okay."

"But now with all this with the doctor… you protected me, and look what it did to you. Everything you did for me hurt you, and it hasn't stopped hurting you just because she's gone. It's all my fault."

"Rosie, I did what I thought was right because I love you. This is not your fault, do you hear me? This – whatever this is – is a small price to pay, and I'd pay it again. I'm going to be just fine."

He wraps one arm around me, pulling me into his side while Rosie is still buried against the other. I suppose I should feel like I'm intruding, but I don't. I feel safe, loved, wanted, and entirely at home.

–***–*–**

_**June 3, 2005 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 12)**_

_When Mom walked in the front door, Rosie and I were sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, starting to watch movie. I had Fridays off from the library, so Rosie and I usually spent the day together. Mom had appointments with her therapist every Friday at two, and she was usually pretty worn out afterward and wanted her space. So it didn't surprise me when she said a quick hello, grabbed a bottle of water, and shut herself in her room. I guessed the therapy sessions took a lot out of her. _

_When the movie was over, I carried our empty bowl to the sink and looked around in the refrigerator for something to make for dinner. We were out of pretty much everything except water and mustard, so I decided I'd have to run to the store. Mom probably hadn't had time to go in awhile, and I didn't want to upset her on a therapy day. I could handle dinner by myself._

"_Rosie? You want to go to the store with me? We need groceries."_

"_Can't I just stay here? It's so hot out, and I want to finish my book."_

"_I don't know… I'd think it'd be better if you came along."_

"_I'm a big girl, Jasper. I'll stay in my room, and if Mom wakes up I'll go over to Garrett's house. I know the drill."_

_I should have been proud of her for being responsible and paying attention, but I hated that she had to think about stuff like that. She shouldn't have had to worry about staying home alone with Mom for an hour or two so I could go buy groceries for dinner. Our mom might have hurt me physically, but she'd taken away Rosie's childhood. I wasn't sure which was worse. _

"_Alright, but promise me you'll go to Garrett's. He'll be home from work in half an hour, and I'm going to call him and tell him to come get you."_

"_Don't be such a worrywart," she laughed. "I'll be fine."_

_I watched her go back to our room and shut the door, and I grabbed Mom's keys and my wallet and headed out the door. I called Garrett on my way to the store, and he promised to pick her up as soon as he got home. I told him Mom was napping and had seemed fine before that, but he said it wouldn't hurt to be cautious and I agreed._

_I rushed through the grocery store as fast as I could, picking up some steaks and potatoes that would be quick and easy once I got home. It was already almost six, and I was getting hungry. The store was crowded, though, so it took longer than I'd hoped. I was just loading the bags into the car when my cell phone rang. It was home._

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, kid, it's Garrett. Where are you?"_ His voice was strained, and I could hear a commotion in the background._

"_I'm just leaving the store. What's going on? I thought you were taking Rosie to your place."_

"That's why I came over, but I was too late,"_ he said. He sounded like he was in pain, and I felt like my chest was being crushed. I couldn't breathe. _"Jasper, you need to hurry home."

"_What happened? Where's Rosie?"_

"She's okay, I think. She's hiding in the closet, and your Mom's back in her room. Just come on home, and I'll tell you the rest."

"_I'll be there in five."_

_I threw the last bag in the car carelessly and sped out of the parking lot. The drive home was a blur. All I could feel was the steering wheel beneath my fingers. All I could think about was Rosie. Rosie crying. Rosie bruised. Rosie bleeding. I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been. I left her alone for all of an hour, and Mom managed to fuck it all up. Six weeks left, and I was going to have to run. I always said we'd go if she hurt Rosie, and I meant it. We'd have to pack up and leave that night, before she woke up. Maybe Garrett would hide us at his house for awhile. We just had a few more weeks until I could make it all legal. I just needed more time. But my time had finally run out._

_I pulled up in the driveway, barely getting the car into park before I jumped out of the car and ran in the house. I didn't even bring the keys or the groceries._

"_Rosie? Garrett?" I called. _

_I saw Garrett come running down the hallway from my room. He looked awful. His jaw was set, his brow furrowed, and his eyes panicked. He looked as upset as he had that day he found out about my scars._

"_What the hell happened? Was she drunk?"_

"_Very. I think she's passed out in her room now."_

"_How did she get the alcohol?" I yelled. "I've been watching her… We've been so fucking careful. I drive her to her meetings, I watch her money, I – I – I –"_

"_Calm down," he said gently. "I don't know how she got it, but she did. That's what addicts do, Jasper. They find a way to get what they want. You can't watch her all the time."_

"_What'd she do? Is Rosie hurt?"_

"_I don't know everything. I came to pick her up, and I heard Short Stack screaming when I was on the porch. I busted the door open, and when I found them your mom was holding her by her upper arms, shaking her. She was yelling about lies… filthy lies or something like that. She was telling Rosie to let it go, but I don't know what she was talking about. I pulled her off and I guess that scared her because she ran off to her room, crying. Rosie ran and locked herself in her closet before I could talk to her. She's been crying in there ever since, and I can't get her to come out."_

"_She won't come out for you."_

"_I figured as much. I'm sorry, kid. I got here as soon as I could."_

"_It's not your fault. I never should have left her. Fuck."_

_I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling my hands through my hair painfully. Thoughts were running through my head so fast, I could hardly make them out. How? I couldn't figure out how any of this had happened. I checked for bottles everywhere. I checked her car. I watched her money. I fucking bought her bottled water so she couldn't hide behind a glass of "ice water" like she used to. Suddenly it hit me._

"_Fuck!" I yelled. "The bottles. It was the fucking bottles."_

"_What bottles?" Garrett asked. "I checked the kitchen and I don't see any liquor anywhere."_

"_The water bottles. God, I'm such a fucking moron!"_

_I ran down the hallway to her room, bursting in without even knocking. She was sprawled face down on her bed, and the mostly-empty water bottle sat on the bedside table. I picked it up and took a sip, almost choking when the vodka burned my tongue. I sputtered, spraying alcohol everywhere. When I turned around, Garrett was in the doorway._

"_What is it?" he asked."_

"_Her favorite, of course. Vodka. Fuck. Go pour this out, I'm going to get Rosie."_

_I handed him the bottle and pushed past him to get to Rosie and my room. I could hear her whimpering on the other side of the closet door as I approached, and I dropped to my knees in front of it._

"_Rosie? I'm here, it's okay to come out now."_

"_J-Jasper? W-where is she?"_

"_She's asleep now, and Garrett's here too. You're safe, sweetie, it's okay now."_

_I slid my hand up against the wood, willing her to calm down enough to unlock the door. Every time she locked herself in there, it took a little longer to get her to come out, and I was sure this time would be no exception. This time she was hurt. She was hurt, because I wasn't here to protect her. She was scared and in pain, and it was all my fault._

"_Come on out, Rosie. Please? I'll sing to you."_

"_W-what will you s-sing?"_

_I didn't even have to think about it. There was only one answer. And so I sang._

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray_. _You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."_

_I lost count of how many times I looped back through the song, waiting patiently for her to calm down. I didn't move my hand from the door until I heard the lock slide out of place, and the door began to swing open slowly. I kept singing, opening my arms as she crashed into me._

_I let her sob on my chest, rocking us both back and forth and singing that song over and over. I felt tears burning their way down my face as I remembered the way Rosie sang that same song to me when she cleaned the wounds on my back from the belt. She sang and sang, until I forgot about the pain long enough to fall asleep. I held her tighter, running my fingers through her hair and rubbing her back. I sang and sang until she stopped crying and pulled back to sit up. _

_Her eyes were red and swollen, and so was her nose. Her left cheek was, also, and she winced as I brushed my fingers across it carefully. It was already starting to darken into a bruise. I felt my jaw lock into place. _

"_Did she do that?" I choked out through clenched teeth. She nodded, taking a deep and shuddering breath. "What else?"_

_She pulled a little farther away and lifted up the sleeves of her t-shirt. I could see red marks on each of her upper arms, I guessed from where Mom had held on and shaken her. I groaned, brushing my fingers against the marks there as well. _

"_I'm sorry, Jasper," she cried. "It's all my fault."_

"_This is not your fault, sweetie. I don't want to ever hear you say that again, do you understand me? Mom is sick, and I'm going to make sure she never hurts you again. I promise you that, Rosie. Remember our plan?" She nodded, and I kissed her cheek softly before pulling her back into a hug. "I promise."_

_I lifted her up and carried her to her bed, struggling a little bit with how big she'd gotten but not caring. I tucked her in and kissed her head, telling her I was going to go get some dinner for her._

_When I went back out to the den, Garrett was sitting nervously on the arm of the couch. He shot up when he saw me._

"_Is she okay? Did you get her to come out?"_

"_She's in bed now. I think she'll be alright. It looks like a bruise is coming in on her cheek, and one on each arm from where Mom grabbed her. It could have been worse I guess, but… shit, Garrett."_

"_It's okay, kid. She's going to be okay. You did your best."_

_I wasn't sure how much time we had before Mom would wake up, so I needed to act fast. _

"_Garrett? Can we… well… would you mind if we came and stayed with you for a little while? I'm not sure where else we can go right now, and I need to withdraw my money from the bank before I can find something more permanent."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_We can't stay here."_

"_I know you can't, but Jasper… I thought we talked about this. I told you if anything else happened, we'd have to report it. I've already called CPS and they're on their way."_

"_You what?" I shouted. "But we… they're going to take her from me. I can't let them take her from me, Garrett. What if she goes somewhere that scares her? What if they're mean to her? What if they're just like Mom and they hurt her? I can't let that happen. I can't let them take her from me."_

_He put his hands on my shoulders, trying to calm me down, but it only made me madder. I shrugged him off and ran to the kitchen._

"_Jasper, listen to me. You agreed to this when I agreed to keep your secret. I never should have done that in the first place, but I trusted you. I told you if anything else happened, we were going to do this my way."_

"_And what is your way, Garrett? It's too soon, and you're letting them take her. I can't fucking believe this. It's all ruined, don't you understand that? I've been planning and saving for this for years. I've been dreaming about the day I could walk out that door – just tell her to fuck off and take Rosie with me. Now what am I supposed to do?"_

"_Now you're supposed to let the law handle this, which is exactly the way it should be. My way is the only way to keep you safe now. You can't keep on like this, kid. You don't deserve to be hurt like this, and neither does she. Neither of you should be living in fear or having to worry that your mother might be hiding liquor in a fucking bottle of water. It's enough, Jasper. It was enough a long time ago, and I can't let it go anymore. This is it; it's over. You guys are going to be safe now, I promise. I'm going to help you."_

"_I don't want your help, Garrett. You've done enough, and I think you should go."_

"_I don't care if you want my help or not," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and standing tall. "I'm going to help you anyway. You can't do this alone anymore. You don't have to do this alone."_

_I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want help. I didn't want them to take Rosie. I didn't want to admit that I'd failed. I didn't want to have to watch the bruise bloom across Rosie's cheek. I didn't want any of this, but I was out of options. Out of time. _

"_It's over," I whispered._

"_It's over," Garrett said, smiling. He misunderstood my quiet panic for relief. "This is only temporary, Jasper. We'll get you a lawyer, and before you know it this will all be sorted out. You'll get her back, I promise."_

"_How can you be sure?"_

"_Because that's what's right, and I'm not going to let anyone forget that."_

_I hoped he was right._

_

* * *

_

**Thank you so much for reading. Now you know what happened that day and who (Garrett!) called CPS. Who's still with me? Any questions?**

**Have you ever had a secret you were too afraid to tell?**

**Love to justaskalice and Lucette21 for their amazing as always beta work. :)**


	22. Dodge and Burn

"**In music I still prefer the minor key, and in printing I like the light coming from the dark. I like pictures that surmount the darkness, and many of my photographs are that way." **

– **W. Eugene Smith**

I sit uncomfortably on my couch, waiting for Jasper. My foot taps nearly uncontrollably, impatient teeth worry my lips until they're raw and tender, and my mind is moving so fast I can't seem to focus on anything. The room spins ever so slightly, and my worry is ball of nausea which sinks deeper and deeper into the pit of my stomach.

We're going to meet his mother today. This afternoon. So very, very soon, in so many ways.

Soon because… I'm meeting his mother. His only surviving parent. She's the reason for all his insecurities and hesitations, and in many ways she's the shadow hanging over our otherwise simple relationship. I know that no matter the outcome today, this is a turning point in our relationship and in his life. It's a chance for him to find some resolution. It's a chance for us to move forward. It's also an opportunity for this all to get much, much worse, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to deal with that.

The sound of my phone ringing startles me, and I feel my heart racing as I scramble to answer it. It's Charlie.

"Daddy?"

"_Hey there, honey. What are you up to?"_

"Just waiting for Jasper to pick me up. What about you?"

"_Oh, you know. Having a few beers and playing poker with the boys,"_ he teases, his voice heavy with sarcasm. _"What else do I do on Sunday afternoons?"_

"So you're at the station, then?"

He chuckles. _"I think you know me too well."_

"I think I know you just well enough. Slow day?"

"_Pretty slow. Not a lot of excitement around here. Maybe later I'll get to haul someone in for an unpaid parking ticket or something."_

"Now that's something to look forward to," I laugh.

We both pause, and I imagine I can hear his fingers scrubbing roughly at his stubbly jaw. He takes a deep breath, and I wait patiently for him to voice whatever is really on his mind.

"_So,"_ he begins hesitantly, _"today's the day, then?"_

"Today's the day. He should be here any minute."

"_You nervous?"_

"You couldn't tell?"

"'_Course I could; I'm not dumb, honey. I'm pretty sure I can hear that foot of yours from Dallas. You might want to ease up before you wear a hole in the floor."_

"Ha ha," I deadpan. I still my foot, anyway, just in case. "If you're trying to calm me down by teasing me, it's not working."

"_What are you so nervous about?"_

I hesitate before answering, but decide to be honest. I need him to tell me what he thinks.

"Everything. I want her to be healthy. I want him to be happy. I want her to give him a reason to forgive her. I want her to like me, which is probably the last thing I should be thinking about. I just… I don't know, Dad. It's not going to be perfect or easy and I know that, I really do. I just can't help but hope it will be. Is that stupid?"

"_There's nothing wrong with optimism, honey. You can hope for the best without expecting it."_

"I hope so. If you think I'm a mess, you wouldn't believe what he's been like the past couple days. I'm trying so hard to keep him calm, but I just don't know how."

"_I know; I talked to him this morning. You're doing the best you can, and that's all you can do. He's a strong young man. He's going to be fine, no matter what happens."_

"I know he will be. I just want him to be happy."

We're both silent for a few moments, and I hear him sigh and shift in his seat. I imagine him with his elbows on his desk, resting his forehead in his free hand and rubbing his temples.

"_Listen, Bella, I know I'm not the best at this kind of stuff. I just want you to understand something here. You can't control what happens today. She was a sick woman, and there might never be anything anyone can do to change that. The only thing the two of you can control is how you're going to handle it. You deal with this together and you'll be okay. When you love someone like that – like I love… loved your mother – nothing else matters. You'll see, honey. She can disappoint him, but she can't hurt him anymore. He'll be okay because he's got you."_

I take a jagged breath and wipe away a stray tear that's burning its way down my cheek. I open and close my mouth, but I can't find the right words. Eventually I hear him whisper my name in a question, as if he's worried about why I haven't spoken yet.

"Sorry, I… thanks, Dad. You always say the right thing."

"_I don't know about that, but I'm glad you think so."_

"Well it's true."

"_You alright now?"_

"Yes. Much better," I say, relieved. I hear a knock on the door and I smile, feeling confident about this afternoon for the first time in days. "He's here, Dad; I've gotta go."

"_Alright, you kids be careful."_

"We will. Love you."

"_Love you too, honey."_

I hang up as I'm walking to the door, and when I open it I see Jasper, more calm than he has been since he set up this whole thing up. He greets me with a wide smile before pulling me close for a kiss that curls my toes.

"Well hello to you, too," I laugh breathlessly. "You seem better."

"I really think I am," he answers, and I wonder if his talk with Charlie gave him as much confidence as mine did. "You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be. Do I look okay to meet her?"

"You look beautiful, as always. She's going to love you. And anyway, _she's_ the one who should be worried about impressing _you_," he says, kissing the end of my nose softly before his lips meet mine again. I stand on my toes, threading my fingers into his hair and pulling him as close as I can manage. When our lips part, I hold him close, not trusting my now unsteady legs. "It doesn't matter what she thinks. I love you. That's all that matters."

"I'm not worried."

He pulls me close for a sweet kiss on my forehead and whispers, "That one is from Charlie," against my skin. I blush.

Then he smiles and takes my hand, leading me down to the car.

Our drive to the coffee shop is quiet and peaceful. His hand in mine keeps me calm and steady, and I know this is right. I can't be confident in her or how this reunion will go, but I can be sure of Jasper. I know he loves me and I love him. He knows I'm here to support him no matter what happens next. I know that no matter the outcome, he'll want me by his side. I know that I want to be there, good or bad. I can be confident in all of this, and that's more than enough. We're facing this – her – together, and I know at the end of the day we'll walk away together, too.

We find a table tucked in a quiet corner of the coffee shop, and I take a seat next to Jasper. He's not quite so calm now that we're actually here, waiting, and his fingers drum restlessly on the table. I pull his hand into my lap, kissing it first, and he smiles appreciatively.

The bell on the front door jingles as someone enters, and we both look up sharply. I see a beautiful woman in a pale blue sundress walk in, her hair falling in loose blonde waves over one shoulder. She's looking around the room carefully, searching for something or someone. Her eyes fall on Jasper, and she's found what she sought. Her entire face lights up as she watches him, and she glances quickly at me and then back to him. Her soft blue eyes are his; her radiant smile is Rosie's. The corner of my mouth pulls up into half a smile before I can stop it.

My attention shifts when I feel Jasper's hand tighten around mine. I turn to him in time to see his body tense as his eyes go wide. I hear his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. I lean in close, whispering his name soothingly, running my fingers through his hair. My lips brush against his ear, and I plead with him to come back to me. I don't know if just seeing her has triggered it, but this episode is the worst I've seen in months. He's gone, gone, gone, and I don't know how to bring him back.

I glance back at her and she's crestfallen. Her eyes question mine, and I shake my head, dismissing her before going back to comforting him. I kiss his hands, I kiss his jaw, I kiss his hands again. I put my hand over his heart, rubbing gently. He finally begins to relax, taking a staggering breath when he's himself again. His hand loosens around mine before tightening again, and he looks from me to her and back again. He shakes his head shamefully.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he whispers.

"Shh, it's okay. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"I can't do this yet," he says, his voice panicked. "I can't."

"You can. I'm right here with you."

"Not yet. Please, just – let's go. It's just too soon."

I turn to look at his mother again, and I can't help the guilt I feel over her expression. She looks entirely broken. She might deserve a lot of things, and he certainly doesn't owe her anything, but the part of me that grew up motherless needs to give her something. I can't stop thinking about what I would give to see my mother standing in front of me right now, even for a moment. It's irrational and unfair, and this woman is _not_ my mother. My eyes prick with tears, but I will them away. My mother died too soon, ripped from her life, mine, and Charlie's. His mother never tried hard enough to stick around, sliding willingly out of his life after putting him and Rosie through the worst kinds of pain and disappointment. I shouldn't see a mother in front of me, but I do. And I can't just walk away from that. I can't let him walk away from this without knowing.

"Go get the car," I say calmly. "I'll meet you out there in five minutes."

"Bella, I don't think –"

"It's okay, Jasper. I just need a minute. Trust me."

He nods, kissing me quickly before standing to go. I watch him pause as he walks past her, lingering for a fraction of a second before increasing his pace until he's out the door. I watch her reach out for him hesitantly as he passes, pulling her hand back as he hurries away. She opens her mouth to call after him but stops, instead wrapping her arms around herself as I've seen Rosalie do. She stays that way for a few moments before she turns and realizes I'm still waiting for her.

She walks toward me slowly and slides into the seat across from me.

She smiles, and it's no longer radiant but pained.

I watch a single tear slide down her cheek before she brushes it away absently.

"Mrs. Whitlock?" I ask quietly.

"You must be Bella."

"Yes, ma'am. I – well, I'm sorry he ran out like that. This has been really hard on him… on both of them."

"I deserve much worse," she admits, laughing drily. "I'm grateful he showed up at all."

"He wasn't sure if he wanted to, at first."

"He's a smart boy. I've done nothing but disappoint him for a very long time."

I don't know how to respond to her. It's not fair to him for me to tell her his secrets, especially the PTSD, but I don't want to leave yet. I want to know what she wants with him. I need to know why she's here. Her fingers move to trace the outline of her necklace in our mutual silence. I remember him telling me about a necklace – the one his father gave her when he was born. He sees her wearing it in all of his memories. I wonder if it's the same.

"I'm going to be blunt, Mrs. Whitlock –"

"Mary Ella. Please, call me Mary Ella."

"Mary Ella. Why are you here? After all this time… why?"

"Part of recovery is seeking forgiveness, even if you don't think you deserve it. I know it's not fair to drag them back into all of this, but I just couldn't let them go on thinking they weren't good enough. Regret doesn't even cover what I feel, Bella. I don't know where to begin."

"I'm listening."

"I've been sober for three years, eight months, and nineteen days. Since the last day I saw Jasper. I'm sure he remembers that day better than I do. The details are a little fuzzy, but I remember the basics."

I cringe, knowing exactly how well he remembers everything, wondering what he went through during his episode just a few minutes ago.

"He remembers a lot," I say slowly, carefully. "More clearly than I'm sure either of you would like."

She nods sadly, taking a deep breath before she continues.

"I've been a selfish woman, Bella. I was selfish and stupid, and I let the best parts of my life slip through my fingers. I was so obsessed with what I had already lost, I ended up losing everything. I gave up my children to wallow in self-pity with a ghost. I failed both of my children and my husband. I failed myself."

She's gripping her necklace firmly now, her knuckles white, and tears stream slowly down both her cheeks. Her voice cracks slightly, and her breathing falters. She's trying desperately to hold herself together, and I'm trying desperately to remain composed.

"He's not sure if he can forgive you," I murmur, needing to be honest.

"I know," she whispers. "I don't deserve their forgiveness, but I just needed them to know that I'm better now. They made me better, and I owe them my life. Please, just tell him that. I won't bother them again. I just… I have to live every day with my mistakes, and I love them too much to let them go without knowing that they were worth so much more than I could give them."

I don't know how to answer, so I don't. I nod tightly, and she seems to understand. She smiles, but it doesn't erase the sadness in her features. She looks years older than she did when she walked in.

"I tried to figure out how to do this the right way, like he wanted me to… how to ask for forgiveness the right way," she says slowly. "Thank you for listening, and for caring about him. He deserves to be happy."

"I know," I say. She smiles again, and I stand to leave. "For what it's worth, I'm glad that you're doing better. I know he will be too, regardless of how hard this is for him. It was nice to finally meet you."

"Goodbye, Bella."

Jasper's waiting anxiously for me in the car. His frightened eyes scan every inch of me, as if he's expecting to find some sort of physical damage from my five minutes alone with his mother. I suppose I can't blame him for that.

Once he seems satisfied that I'm okay, he pulls me to him roughly for a kiss – a kiss heavy with disappointment, frustration, and so much more. He's frenzied, with desperate teeth and rough hands, yet somehow beneath all of that he's still vulnerable. I slide my hands up his neck and into his hair, tugging gently and slowing our pace. He follows my lead, his lips relaxing in response to mine. We finally part, and he presses one final kiss in my favorite spot beneath my ear. I shiver as he lingers there for a moment, and he's smiling shyly when he pulls away.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes full of worry.

"I'm fine," I laugh lightly. "I'm more concerned about you right now."

"I shouldn't have left you with her like that," he says, shaking his head. He looks frustrated.

"Jasper, I told you to leave me with her. I shouldn't have let you walk out of there alone, so I'm sorry for that. I just – I don't know. I saw her standing there, and all I could think about was my mom. I wanted it to be my mom. I know it's not the same thing, not by a long shot, but I just couldn't walk away like that."

He pulls me as close as he can over the console between us.

"I'm glad you came with me today," he murmurs. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I'll always be with you when you need me, Jasper. You should know that by now."

He nods, and I feel him take a deep breath, his exhale hot against my neck.

"I saw her… I had a flashback of the last day I saw her. The last time she disappointed me. I just – I couldn't face her after that. I'd almost forgotten the things I said to her. All her empty promises all over again. I couldn't go through it again. I couldn't sit there and hear more lies coming out of her mouth."

"You don't have to. You don't owe her anything. I think it might be different this time, though. She told me she's been sober since that last day you saw her." I pause, and he leans back to look me in the eye. I hold his gaze, speaking softly and with as much sincerity as I can. "She said to tell you that you and Rosie _were_ worth it, in the end. She said she made herself better for you, and she wanted you to know that you saved her life. She knows she doesn't deserve your forgiveness and she doesn't expect it. She just wanted you to know that she tried to do this for you, the right way."

"She heard me," he whispers.

He pulls out his wallet, handing me a tear-stained letter hiding within it. It's been creased and re-creased, folded and re-folded, read and re-read. I take it in my hands gently, reverently. My eyes fill with tears as I read it and soon they join hers on the page, the fresh drops smudging the words they fall on.

"I think she might have," I agree, and he kisses my tears away.

–***–*–**

_**July 22, 2006 (Jasper is 19, Rosie is 13)**_

_It was just another Saturday, like a hundred Saturdays before it._

_Garrett picked Rosie up so they could spend the day together while I worked at the library. It was their weekly tradition, and she really depended on that time with him. Even though we didn't live next door to him anymore, he'd made a huge effort to make sure we didn't see him any less. He'd moved, too, as soon as possible; he couldn't stand to live next door to her anymore after Rosie and I were gone. _

_I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. _

_I went to work. I organized some new arrivals. I shelved and re-shelved books. I read to the kids who showed up for storybook hour. I took my lunch break. I shelved more books. Around three, Mrs. Kerby left for the day, and I took her place at the circulation desk. I answered questions. I checked books out to a few people who drifted in and out. _

_It was a slow day, and I was enjoying having some down time. I pulled out a book to read to pass the time, and the only sounds I noticed for a long time were the ticking of the clock and the rustling of my pages turning._

_I looked up when I heard the front door open, and I saw her. My stomach lurched, and I felt a smile start to break out across my face before I could stop myself. She was wearing a pretty blue dress and she looked like she'd just had her hair done. The way the sun streamed in through the glass doors behind her made her look so beautiful. She looked like something out of my memories – like before he died. For a moment, I forgot how I should react to seeing her. I forgot about the pain, the restraining orders, the chaos, the court dates, and the disappointment. For a moment, she was my mom, and she was there. To see me. For a moment, I was happy. I was hopeful. _

_I should have known better. _

_She was looking around the library, searching for me. I felt my face slip into a calm mask as I watched her. I was determined not to let her see my hope. When her eyes finally settled on mine, her entire face lit up in a beautiful smile. I barely remembered that smile because I hadn't seen it in years, but I did remember the way she could command a room with it. I let the corner of my mouth drift up slightly. I couldn't help it. Then she took a step toward me and stumbled, and the hope I'd been building shattered._

_She looked down to catch her balance, and I could see the shame in her eyes when she looked up again. She knew she'd been caught. I watched her careful facade crumble piece by piece as she got closer. She looked nervous and unsure instead of bright and confident. I noticed a small tear near the knee of her dress that I had just thought looked so nice, and when she reached the circulation desk I saw that her nails were chipped. She studied me carefully, but her eyes were just… wrong. She looked so much older than she had a year ago. She was thinner, for sure, her cheeks slightly hollow and her eyes weighed down by dark circles. Her skin looked pale, translucent, and more fragile than I remembered. Her hand went up to nervously finger her necklace – the same one she wore to his funeral and every day in my memories. _

"_Mom," I said quietly. "What are you doing here?"_

"_I came to see you," she whispered. When she spoke, I smelled the alcohol seep through the air between us. I closed my eyes, cringing, remembering the last time I'd smelled it on her. The night she hurt Rosie. I thought I'd never have to go through that again, but there she was in the flesh. Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change. "I had to see you, baby."_

"_Please don't call me that." I paused, watching her eyes grow glassy and pained. I took a deep breath and willed myself to be strong. She wasn't going to make me pity her. She had made her choices, and I had made mine. I had to keep it together, for Rosie. "What do you want?"_

"_I came to tell you happy birthday."_

"_My birthday was on Wednesday."_

"_I know. I didn't think you'd be working on your birthday. I thought you might have some time off or something."_

"_I don't have time for time off," I said coldly. "I have a thirteen-year-old to support."_

_She swallowed thickly, and her eyes focused on her hands which were drumming frantically on my desk._

"_How is she?" she whispered, glancing around the room quickly. "Is she here?"_

"_No, she's not here. And she's fine now. She's happy."_

"_I knew she would be. You were always so good to her… to me. I knew you'd take good care of her."_

"_So did I. I had plenty of practice. Look, you're not supposed to be here. Please don't make this harder than it has to be."_

"_Just – please, Jasper. Give me a minute." She looked so desperate, I couldn't refuse her. I sighed, nodding for her to continue. "I just had to find a way to talk to you. I just – I need you to know that I can change, baby. I'm trying so hard. I know you don't want to live with me and that's fine, but I'd like to be able to see you every once in awhile."_

"_I really don't think that's a good idea."_

_Her face fell at my words, and it hurt me to see the pain in her eyes. Pain I was causing. She shook her head back and forth in quick but forceful movements, continuing as if she hadn't heard what I said._

"_And I wanted you to know… how unhappy I am without you and Rosie," she said, talking faster as if it would help her to convince me. "I miss you both so much. Nothing's right without you. I know I don't deserve it, but if I could maybe just see you both… for dinner or something. It would make me so happy."_

_She was begging, and it took everything I had to keep myself from giving in and comforting her. I had to keep my distance or I knew she'd suck me right back into her world of broken promises. I had to keep it together for Rosie. _

"_That's not fair. I'm sorry you're not happy, but we finally are. More importantly, Rosie's safe now. I spent ten fucking years trying to make you happy, but you're never going to be happy. Not with us. Not without him." _

_I kept my voice calm and level, even though every word pained me. Her eyes filled with tears, and I tried to look on in disinterest; my hand burned to reach out and wipe them away._

"_Losing him almost killed me, and now you and Rosie…" She trailed off quietly, and I could see the terror in her eyes. They darted all around, looking at everything but me. "What am I supposed to do?"_

"_I don't know," I said firmly. "You're going to have to figure that out for yourself. You need to leave now."_

"_Please don't do this, baby," she whispered._

"_I'm not your baby anymore. Stop calling me that."_

"_But I can be different, Jasper. If you'd just give me another chance. I promise. I can be good for you kids. I want to be good for you."_

"_No, if you were really different – if you were really changing to be better for _us_ – you wouldn't approach me like this. You know I don't want you here. You know I don't think it's safe for you to be anywhere near Rosie. You're making this about _you_. _You_ want forgiveness and _you_ want me to make you happy. It was always about you. Nothing has changed. If you really wanted my forgiveness, you'd respect me and Rosie enough to ask for it the right way."_

_We stared at each other silently for a long time, and I was about to turn to walk away when she spoke again, so quietly I could hardly hear her._

"_What is the right way, Jasper?"_

"_I don't know. That's something you're going to have to figure out for yourself. But it sure as hell isn't this, this… blindsiding me like this at work."_

"_I don't know how to make this better, Jasper. Just tell me how to make it better and I'll do it. I'll do anything."_

_She looked so hopeful, and I knew I was going to have to hurt her to make her understand. I had to make her walk away._

"_Maybe it's not supposed to be better. We're fine on our own, and you don't have to bother with trying to be anything you don't want to be. I'm done trying to force you to be the kind of mom we deserve. It's just not worth the disappointment anymore."_

_I watched the life drain out of her face at my words. What little color she'd had left in her cheeks dissolved, and her teary eyes stared blankly into mine. Her lips parted slightly, and I heard a small gasp escape her. Her empty expression lasted only a moment before it crumbled into devastation. She looked down at her feet, squeezing her eyes shut and wrapping her arms protectively around her chest, the same way Rosie always did. It was the thought of Rosie that kept me from crumbling right along with her. It gave me the strength to say what I needed to for Mom to leave us and never come back._

"_You know what, Mom? Sometimes I wonder what our lives would have been like if it hadn't rained that Thanksgiving," I whispered. She flinched. Every word I spoke left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. "If we'd come home when we were supposed to. What kind of person does that make me? But then I would never have had to see the bruises on Rosie's face and the tears in her eyes. I wouldn't have to wonder what might have happened if Garrett hadn't come home when he did. I thought Thanksgiving was my worst nightmare – finding you like that. But it wasn't. My worst nightmare was that day a year ago. What you did to Rosie. What I let happen."_

"_It's not your fault, baby," she cried. "This is all my fault, and I see that now."_

"_I've tried so hard… ever since this started. I've tried to make this right. I've tried to make you love us. I've tried to be a good man. Better than you, because I don't want to be like you."_

"_Jasper, I'm –"_

"_No. Don't even try to say you're sorry because that word means absolutely nothing to me anymore. It means nothing, because I can smell the alcohol on your breath from three feet away. I can see it in your eyes and the way you shuffled your feet walking in here. I hear it in your voice. I can't believe how fucking naive I was. I thought losing us would push you to try and be better. For a minute when I saw you walking in, I let myself hope that it had. I should have known better."_

"_Jasper, please –"_

"_No. I don't have to listen to your apologies anymore. This is the last time you're going to disappoint us. You don't deserve me, and you certainly don't deserve her, so don't come looking for us again. Not like this. You need to just forget about us, and we need to forget about you so we can finally move on with our lives." _

_I worked hard to keep my tone even and my voice free of bitterness. I worked harder to keep the tears out of my eyes, and not to pay attention to the tears in hers. I had to get away from her._

_I turned around to walk away, heading out of the circulation desk with a stack of books to re-shelve. I heard her shuffling and stumbling behind me, bumping into furniture and tripping over bumps in the carpet. I wondered how much she'd had to drink to face me. She caught up to me in one of the aisles, grabbing my arm sharply to pull me to face her. I flinched away, dropping my books and putting my hands up between us. I couldn't help the instinct, and I could see how much it hurt her to see my reaction._

"_I'm sorry, baby, so sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just wanted you to listen."_

"_You didn't hurt me, but I'm done listening. You're never going to hurt me again, that's the whole point. Just please… please leave."_

"_I love you, Jasper," she cried. "I just want to be a family again. I can't do this without you. You were always on my mind, baby. You were always on my mind."_

_Fucking Elvis. I couldn't control my temper anymore. I felt the anger course through my veins and roll off of me in waves. She could feel it, too, and took a half a step back. My face flamed with fury, and my lungs burned in exertion as I tried to take deep calming breaths. _

"_Don't you dare quote that song to me. Do you know what Elvis means to me, _Mom_?" I spat, emphasizing the "mom" with sarcasm. "Elvis means drunken nights, empty bottles, and disappointment. It reminds me of the day you tried to kill yourself, when I cried because even though you'd treated me like shit, I didn't want you to die. Those songs bring back all my bruises and burns. Belts across my back. Broken bottles and the cuts they gave me. You crying yourself to sleep. Rosie crying all alone, locked in the closet. Elvis means misery to me, so don't fucking quote that song to me as if it's an apology."_

"_I know I've let you down, Jasper. Everything I've done to you… to Rosie… it only makes this worse for me now. You have no idea what it's like for me to have to look at myself in the mirror every day. I never meant to hurt you. I tried to be better, God, I tried. I wanted my husband back because I was alone. He left me, just like my parents left me, and I couldn't face it alone. He was supposed to save me from myself, and instead I ended up alone. I just… I –" _

"_Just stop. Please," I begged._

"_Jasper…"_

_I took a big step back, away from her. She didn't try to follow me this time. I knew this was it. She'd made me bleed, she'd made me cry, and she'd made me hate myself. She'd made me feel guilty for being alive and made me resent my dad for dying – for not having to see what was happening to me. What was happening to Rosie. With that thought of Rosie came all my self-control. I felt my calm, blank mask fall over my face. I knew I could keep my voice steady, despite what I had to say. I took a deep breath, and let it all go. _

"_You should have sucked it up, if not for me then for her. She was two years old, Mom. Fucking two years old and you deserted her. You deserted both of us. You were supposed to protect us and comfort us, and you let me do that for you instead. You weren't the only one who lost him, but you didn't even consider that, did you? You let me take care of you and love you, and you made me stand between you and my sister. I've had enough of all your empty promises. I'm done."_

"_I don't want to lose you and Rosie. I can't."_

"_You already have."_

"_I'm going to get better for both of you. I'm going to prove to you that you're worth it – that you've always been worth it to me."_

"_Don't say that when you don't mean it," I begged. "If you really thought that, we wouldn't be here in the first place. Our family wouldn't have fucking died ten years ago in that car right along with Dad. We would have moved on and been happy. I'm pretty sure that's what he would've wanted."_

"_That's what I want, too. Please."_

"_It's too late. Rosie and I are happy. We're moving on. Please, just leave. Walk out of here and don't come back."_

"_I don't think I can do that, Jasper."_

"_You have to. We were never worth the trouble for you and we never will be. Please… just do this. For me. I don't want to have to call someone to remove you, but I will." _

_I turned and walked away, and this time she didn't follow me. I felt my eyes burning with pain and weakness – with tears. I ducked into the back room and sat up against the wall. I stared woodenly at the boxes in front of me, all full of new books waiting to be shelved. I tried not to close my eyes because when I did, it was like that last image I had of her was burned into my eyelids. I wondered if that was truly the last time I'd ever see her, the last image of her I'd have. I wondered if every time I closed my eyes, that was how I'd see her. Exactly how she looked when I turned to walk away from her._

_The beautiful smile she'd walked in with had fallen. Her cheeks were hollow and wet with tears – tears I had made her cry. Her skin was pale and ghostly. Her makeup had left pathetic black smudges under her eyes, on top of the dark circles that were already there. Her eyes. Her eyes looked empty. Hopeless. Dead. They looked the same as they had all those nights when she'd lost herself in the alcohol. The nights when she forgot about everything in the world except how alone she thought she was. _

_I tried to remember her before. I tried to remember the good days, back when she'd smile at me like I was her whole world. I tried to remember the way she looked at my dad, and the way she'd smile when he kissed her. I tried to remember how happy she seemed when she walked around with Rosie on her hip. I tried to remember anything at all, but it was like stumbling through a dark room. The happy memories were beyond my reach, and all I had left was the pain._

_I looked at my watch and realized almost half an hour had gone by, so I pulled myself together and headed back out to the circulation desk. I found a bulky manila envelope with familiar writing on it, and if I hadn't heard metal jingling inside, I would have thrown it out without looking. Instead I opened it and found a note, a picture, and an old key. _

_The picture was of me, Rosie, and my mom on Rosie's first birthday. Mom looked like she had just that moment stopped laughing, turning to look at the camera while I kissed Rosie on her frosting-covered cheek. It was that smile – the one she'd walked in the library with. I couldn't help but smile at how happy we had looked; I felt it falter slightly once I realized that my dad had taken the picture. I tucked it carefully into the book I was reading so it wouldn't be damaged, and unfolded the note._

Jasper,

You're right about everything, baby. I just want you to know that. I'm sorry I showed up the way I did today. I hope you know that I never meant to scare you or upset you. You don't need to worry about me coming back here again. I don't want to hurt you anymore.

This key is to your daddy's old GTO. I'm leaving it parked out in front for you. In his will, he said he wanted you to have it when you turned eighteen. With everything that's happened this last year, I haven't had the chance to give it to you. I hope you'll look past me being the one handing the keys over and accept it as a gift from him. It's what he wanted for you.

One of these days I'm going to be better, Jasper. I'm going to do this the right way, and someday you'll be able to see that.

Take care of each other. I love you both.

Mom

_Her writing was shaky, the page tear-stained. Beyond the shock of the car, I wasn't sure what to think about what she wrote. I shouldn't have wanted it to be true, but I did. I wanted her to get better and I wanted to one day be able to trust her again. But there I was again, letting her empty promises give me hope. Hope that would one day turn into just another disappointment. _

_I should have just thrown the note away and forgotten about it. About her._

_Instead, I folded it up carefully and slid it into my wallet. _

_Maybe someday it would be true._

_

* * *

_

**Anyone out there need a hug? Raise your hand. **

**What'd you think of the meet up? Did it go as you expected? Did it surprise you?**

**Huge thanks to justaskalice and Lucette21 for their beta work, advice, and support on this one… I needed a lot. :)**

**A year ago today, I started reading my very first Jasper/Bella story. I only tried it because ElleCC wrote it and Legna989 told me to be brave and give it a shot. It was my very first non-canon pairing, and the first story that made me forget Edward Cullen existed. So if you haven't read A Murmur of Fire in the Vein, you're missing out. It's the reason for all my Bellsper love. Today is Firesper's one year anniversary today, so go show him some love. :)**


	23. Infrared

"**Photography is about light and what it does and how it is captured on a piece of negative." **

– **Matthew Modine**

My foot slows its nervous tapping, finding a new, steady rhythm which keeps time with the ticking of the clock in the corner. The room is awkwardly quiet. Every so often, I hear the scratching of a pen on paper or muted keystrokes coming from across the room, where Dr. Kelly's receptionist sits. It must be a slow day because the phone rarely rings; when it does the harsh noise startles me, making me jump. I'm on edge, and it seems as if every minute sound in the room echoes in my ears. My eyes wander, falling on the doorway far too often, hoping to see Jasper standing there. My leg tingles where his hand belongs, soothing me and stilling my anxious fidgets. I bounce my knee to shake off the sensation. My hand burns, missing the feel of his fingers twined with mine. I flex them and then link my own fingers together – trying to fill the void – but it's not the same. I finally sigh, crossing my arms tightly across my chest and leaning back into my seat on the sofa. I'll just have to wait.

I'm restless to join Jasper in his session with Maggie. It's his first since our failed meeting with his mother, and I'm curious to hear what guidance Maggie has to offer. They're starting alone today at her suggestion. She wants to talk to him about a few things privately, but Jasper promised to wait to tell her about his mom until I'm there with him.

He still seems frustrated with his reaction to seeing his mother again, and I think part of him regrets walking away. I keep reassuring him that there's no rush; she seems content to let Jasper and Rosie work at their own pace, and has made it clear that any sort of contact or relationship with them would be a gift. Rosie doesn't want to meet her without Jasper, though, and so he feels as if he's holding her back. Rosie is as patient and reassuring with him as I'm trying to be. We both want him to be healthy, and he has to be comfortable with this before things go any further.

The door to Maggie's office finally opens, and I see what I've been missing: his bright eyes look relieved to see mine, and his lazy grin is the one he saves just for me. I'm on my feet before he can speak, and by his side soon after. He kisses my temple, murmuring a low "hey, beautiful," in my ear before he takes my hand and leads me into the office.

"Hello again, Bella," Maggie says, her smile wide and genuine. "Jasper's been anxious for you to join us."

"I've been anxious, too," I admit, squeezing his hand gently.

We take our usual places on the couch across from where she sits, my hand and his resting loosely together on his knee. I lean into his side, already more comfortable now that I'm with him, touching him, hearing his voice. I can see the corner of his smile from his profile, and I feel my lips pull into a grin in response.

When I look back at Maggie, her eyes are darting back and forth between Jasper's face and mine and her expression is indecipherable.

"So," she begins, "Jasper, you wanted to wait until Bella was with us before we started talking about your Mom today. Was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes," he answers, his hand tightening just slightly around mine. "We – Bella and I – tried to meet up with her for coffee on Sunday. It was… kind of a disaster."

"I wouldn't call it a disaster," I say gently. "It was just a little too soon, I think."

"Whatever you call it, it wasn't good," he continues. "I had an episode, of course. I don't know why I didn't think I would."

"Do you know what triggered it?" Maggie asks, already scratching away at her notes. She writes almost without looking, barely glancing down at her clipboard so that she can maintain eye contact as much as possible. I'm impressed.

"Yes. It was just seeing her, I guess. She was wearing this blue dress, and she looked almost exactly like she did the last day I saw her. Better though, you know? That day in the library, she'd looked so run down. So sick. She looked much healthier."

"That's good, Jasper. That's really good," Maggie encourages. "Did you speak to her?"

He shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak but then shutting it quickly. He looks at me, brows furrowed, and I jump in to answer for him.

"After the episode, he got a little overwhelmed so he left. I stayed to talk to her for a few minutes before meeting him in the car."

He's scrubbing his scalp roughly with one hand now, his other still wrapped tightly around mine. His posture is slouched, and he stares at our hands unblinkingly, his gaze hard.

"Jasper, can you tell me what happened?" Maggie asks.

He takes a deep breath, and I pull his hand into my lap, wrapping both mine around it and squeezing reassuringly. He offers me a weak half-smile before straightening up to face Maggie.

"Just like she said, it was… overwhelming. I saw my mom standing there, and it was like this switch flipped in my mind. Everything disappeared, and then it was three years ago. I was standing in the library, watching her walk in, drunk. I watched our whole argument. I watched her leave in tears. I saw it all, and then…" he trails off, turning toward me. I nod, urging him on with my eyes and my smile. "I heard Bella. I felt her hands on me. She was begging me to come back, and I listened. It was like I woke up. I blinked, and I was back in the coffee shop. My mom was standing in front of me, and I could see how different she was from in my flashback, but also the same. The same because she looked so hurt – just like that day when I… and I just –"

He quiets again, shaking his head slowly and screwing his eyes shut. He's breathing heavily, and for a moment I worry he's having another episode. But when I tighten my hand on his, he responds, and when I murmur his name, he starts speaking again.

"I just couldn't do it," he explains. "I panicked. I remembered how disappointed I was that day when she showed up. She was drunk, and I'd been hoping that us leaving would force her to straighten up. It didn't. I told her to leave and not to come back. I've never forgotten her face right before she walked away that day, but I couldn't forget how much she hurt me either. I couldn't do it again. I couldn't hear that we still weren't a good enough reason for her to get better. So I left. God, I'm such a coward."

"You're not," I whisper. "You're not."

"There's nothing wrong with your reaction, Jasper," Maggie says, her voice strong and reassuring. "You were overwhelmed. You were confronted with the source of all the pain and disappointment in your life, in the flesh, for the first time in almost four years. Of course that triggered you. I told you this was going to be a slow recovery. You have to stop looking at these episodes as mishaps. They're frustrating and disrupting, yes, but every time you have one, we unlock a new piece of your history."

"I know, but I can't help it. I feel so out of control," he argues.

"I can't imagine how unsettling they must be, truly. All the studying and talking I can do will never put me in your shoes. I can't experience them the way you do. But I've dealt with this before, and I can do my best to help you through this. This is about taking back all the control you feel you've lost. Your mother controlled you in the worst ways. Your obligations to yourself and Rosie controlled your life. Your flashbacks sneak up on you without your input, dragging you back in time when that's probably the last place you'd like to be." She pauses, watching him for a moment. He's nodding, his eyes tight, staring at a spot on his knee.

"They make me feel weak," he admits quietly. "It's like… I don't know. I wonder sometimes. I wonder if sticking around and taking the abuse was the right thing to do. I wonder if it really made me more of a man, like I thought it did, or if it just meant I was too weak to take Rosie and get away when I should have."

"Jasper, look at me," she commands. He does. "These flashbacks don't make you weak. They give us the opportunity we need to help you heal. Everything that happened to you was out of your control. You dealt with it the best you could, and nothing you did made you any less of a man. You were a boy who had to grow up way too fast. You've dealt with more in twenty-two years than most men deal with in a lifetime, and all of that has taken its toll on you. There's nothing wrong with that, and you don't need to feel like it weakens you. All of this makes you stronger. Each time we talk about these episodes, you regain a little more control over your life, past and present. When you talk about what happened, you give yourself closure. When you think about how you felt about it, you let that part of yourself go. When you face these memories, you take away their power to haunt you. They don't have the power, Jasper. _You_ have the power to make this all go away. Not me, not Bella, not Rosie or your mom. You have to do that for yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he whispers. He clears his throat, turning to me for a moment. His eyes are determined, his expression strong. His voice is much clearer when he adds, "I think I do."

He needed to hear someone else say it. Someone other than me, other than his sister. He needs that reassurance that he can turn his life around. I've always known he could, but something about hearing it from an unbiased third party seems to spark something in him. He smiles at me again, and this time it's warm and hopeful.

"I told you," I whisper.

"You were right," he answers.

"I'm always right."

"I guess I should know that by now." He smiles, eyes darting over my face.

"Oookay, kids," Maggie laughs, snapping to call us back to attention. "Let's talk about your mom a little more, Jasper. Do you want to keep trying for a reunion?"

"Do you think I should?"

"I think if it's important to you, you should. I think if it hurts you to see her, you should be careful. But I think you need some sort of closure. You might never be able to trust her enough to have a relationship with her, and there's nothing wrong with that. You need to remember that nothing is more important for you and Rosie than your health, safety, and sense of security. Your mother's wishes can't compromise that. But maybe talking this out with her and making some sort of peace would help you move on. And I do think you need to move on."

"I want to move on," he says, earnestly. "I know I need to. It took me by surprise before, but I don't think seeing her will trigger me again now that I'm ready for it. I think the triggers are worse when they catch me by surprise. I just need some time to get comfortable with the idea of seeing her."

"There's no rush," I say, again, because he needs to hear it and _know_ it. "You don't need to push yourself for anyone else. You need to do what's right for you."

"Bella's right," Maggie agrees. "Your therapy is about pushing yourself – testing your limits so that you can grow and heal – but don't be reckless when it comes to your mom. I think it's probably wise to be cautious with her."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," he chuckles. "I'm in no hurry to jump back into anything with her."

Maggie smiles, taking a few more notes before the timer on her desk sounds, signaling the end of our time for this week.

"Oh! Just one more thing before you go. I have some homework for both of you for next week," she says, walking over to her desk to retrieve a small spiral notebook. She hands it to Jasper and answers his quizzical expression with encouraging words. "Jasper, I know you've mentioned having nightmares. I want you to start keeping a detailed journal of those, as well as the flashbacks you have while you're awake. Bella, you'll need to help him keep track of what triggers him, specifically, and how long he's unaware before he comes out of the flashback. I want you both to talk about them, together. Pay attention to the specifics, Jasper. I think having it written out will help you feel a sense of control over the situation. It'll be your words on your paper, describing your life. Bring it with you next week and we'll go from there."

"Okay, I can do that," he agrees, and I nod. We both stand, and he shakes her hand. "Thanks, Maggie, we'll see you next week."

"Thanks, Maggie," I add.

"You're welcome, you guys. See you next week."

Jasper tucks me under his arm to walk out to the car, and I giggle when he lets go to open the door for me; he makes some sort of silly, old-fashioned bow, holding my hand to help me into my seat. I shake my head, still laughing, and he kisses my hand before letting me go and swinging the door shut. I watch him walk around the front of his car, trailing his fingertips along the hood as he goes.

There's a spring in his step I haven't seen since before we saw his mom, and it puts a smile on my face. I'm more comfortable when he's comfortable, happier when he's happy. I don't know when it happened and it certainly wasn't intentional, but I feel like my life has become so intricately bound to his. Somewhere along the way, my future twined itself with his, and I know that my happiness will never be complete without his. I should be scared, but I'm not.

He slides into his seat, taking my hand and placing it on his thigh before he pulls out of the parking lot. I squeeze his leg lightly and watch as he grins wickedly back at me in response. We have a shooting assignment to work on before it's time to pick Rosie up from school, and he heads south to the Barton Springs so we can get started.

We're using digital cameras and retouching to recreate certain film effects, starting with infrared photography. It's an ongoing project over the final two months of the semester – sort of a culmination of all the advanced techniques we've learned this year. Mr. Berty had us pair off into groups of two and gave us all a list of special films and effects, with no instruction whatsoever on how to recreate them in digital. It's our job to puzzle it out in the best ways we can manage. In the end, Mr. Berty is going to judge which methods are most successful, if there's a discernible difference at all. If we do our job right, he won't be able to tell which print is digital and which is film.

Infrared works with so-called 'invisible light,' picking up on color information that the human eye isn't powerful enough to see. The film changes the way colors come across – it's sensitive to warmth and light that we would never know existed. Images take on a soft, dream-like quality with the use of slower shutter speeds and all the extra color information. They're somehow surreal and peaceful, in much the same way our full moon photographs were, but with a hint of insanity, almost.

The early afternoon light and our location should be perfect for what we're going for – high contrast and dramatic shadows. The greens in the lush landscape will go white and almost snow-like, and the bright blue sky will be deep and dramatic, with soft, wispy clouds breaking up the darkness. The gentle breeze will only add to the composition, moving in the trees and grass and against the water – bringing motion to film. I'm excited to experiment with it.

Jasper drums his hands rhythmically against the steering wheel, singing along to the radio in a soft, deep voice. It reminds me of the way he sings quietly in my ear sometimes – the way he did that night on Charlie's porch when he told me he loved me. I smile, running my hand along his thigh again as the memory washes over me. His hands pause, but he keeps singing, glancing at me and winking. I wonder if he knows what I'm thinking. I hope he does.

"You're certainly in a good mood," I laugh. He nods, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

"It's a good day," he answers, shrugging as if that's all there is to it. "The sun is shining, and my camera's loaded with Ektachrome which is pretty damn exciting. Best of all, I've got this beautiful girl holding my hand, looking up at me with the kind of smile that says being with me makes it a good day for her, too."

I smile wider, because he's right. Being with him makes it a better day, simple as that.

"I'm impressed," I say. He pulls over to the parking area near the springs and turns off the car. "It sounds like you know my smiles pretty well."

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of studying your smiles, beautiful," he says quietly. He turns to face me, and when his blue eyes meet my brown, there's something sweet and tender lurking there. I feel my smile soften, and his eyes dart down to appraise this new one. "Like that smile, right there? That smile says you think I'm sweet. I guess I should have told you I switched my degree from photography. This is a much better use of my time."

"A bachelor's in Bella's smiles? Sounds like you're really getting your money's worth there," I tease. "Rosie will be so proud."

"She will be. Maybe someday I'll get my masters."

"That'd be an accomplishment. What about your doctorate?"

"If you'll let me."

"You might be able to make it worth my while," I hedge.

"I'd sure like to try," he laughs. "Might take me awhile, though. You know I'm a slow learner, and I think it might be worse if I'm studying you. I might try to prolong things… drag it out a little, you know."

"Good thing I've got time."

"Lots of time, I hope" he whispers. His eyes are intense, his words heavy with implications. I take a shaky breath, struggling to find the right words to offer him in return. I can't.

"I'm pretty sure I can make time for you," I laugh, smiling weakly.

His thumb reaches out, brushing softly over my upturned lips until they part. His eyes burn as he watches my mouth, and then his lips suddenly steal mine away from his thumb, tugging gently as he pulls my bottom lip between his. I feel his tongue next, sliding across in one slow, lingering movement, tasting. His teeth are gentle and sure, with just enough edge to make my stomach turn over on itself. His lips remind me that they know mine, he knows me, we know each other. His kiss is effortless, sweet, and full of promise.

We pull apart slowly, our breath coming in gasps between us. My lips are tingly and swollen. He smirks lazily, and I wonder if he feels it too.

"W-w-we better get to work," I stutter breathily. His grin widens, because he knows he does that to me.

"You're probably right. Are you sure you're okay to walk?" he teases.

I hadn't even noticed that we were practically sharing a seat at this point, but suddenly he's too close – looking at me with knowing eyes and a knowing smirk – and I have to put him in his place if we're ever going to finish our assignment. I scowl, but judging by the look on his face it's not as intimidating as I'd hoped. I use both hands on his chest to push him back to his side of the car. He lets me move him but grunts dramatically, and it sounds more like he's trying to cover up his own laughter. I open my door to climb out, and he jumps out on his side.

"I would have gotten that for you," he pouts. He's already behind me before I can close my door, and when I do and turn around, he moves even closer, pinning me against it. I can't stop my smile.

"I managed just fine on my own," I breathe. He's too close again, and I can't think straight when he looks at me the way he is right now. It's fire and sweetness at the same time, and I don't know how he does that.

"So stubborn," he whispers, leaning in to press his lips to his favorite spot on my neck. My knees buckle, and I feel his lips smile against me.

"Not playing fair," I gasp. He laughs, but backs away a bit. I don't let him go too far.

His eyes search my face for a moment, almost hesitantly. "You… you didn't ask about what we talked about before you came in. Me and Maggie, I mean."

"I didn't want to pry. I figured you'd tell me if you wanted me to know."

"I want you to know. You can always ask."

"You can always say no," I say. I don't want him to feel obligated to share what he's not comfortable sharing.

"I know."

"So, what did you talk about?"

He smiles down at me before he answers. "She thinks I need more friends. Part of my recovery is having a good support system – finding more people I can trust."

"That's a good idea."

"She said I should try to reconnect with people I used to have to push away, and reinvest in my relationships with the people who survived with me." A gust of wind swirls around us, and he tucks a loose lock of hair securely behind my ear. "I'm going to call Peter. I haven't even talked to him in at least a year. I think we should hang out more with Ben and Angela, too. And Kate and Garrett."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I say. I pull him closer so I can kiss his chin, his jaw, the scars on his neck. "Let's do it."

"She said when I'm ready, I should start forming new friendships. Trusting new people. Like I did with you." I smile when his lips touch my jaw again. "She said it'll help me take back control of my life."

"I like the sound of that," I say, and I do. He's been a victim of his own situation for far too long. He deserves the chance to write the rest of his own story, instead of playing the part he was given. I pull him closer by his belt loops and wrap my arms around him. I hold him – just to hold him – and it's so comfortable. I feel his chest breathe against mine and his heart pounding steadily. I notice that the sun's lower than it should be, though, and we can't stay like this nearly as long as I'd like. "It's getting late. We should get started or we'll run out of time. Rosie needs to be picked up soon."

He sighs, pulling back, and I miss the closeness already.

"I'll set up the tripod," he murmurs, kissing my nose.

"I'll load the film," I offer.

"It's already loaded," he chuckles.

"Then… I'll watch you."

"Enjoy the view," he deadpans.

"Oh, I will," I laugh, winking. He shakes his head as he walks away, but he can't hide his grin.

I see him pause next to a large flat boulder overlooking the Barton Springs pool. His body stiffens, and he stares at it for a few moments. I start walking toward him, worried that he's having an episode.

My hands reach out for his hips, and then I'm in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I whisper his name against his shirt, kissing his chest and holding him close. He relaxes, finally, and so do I.

"Let's go," he says, his voice shaky. "We have to go pick up Rosie soon."

He hugs me tightly, until I'm ready to let go, and then he takes my hand and leads me down to the water.

–***–*–**

_**June 30, 2005 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 12)**_

_I heard her alarm go off and groaned, yanking my pillow out from under my head and covering my face and ears with it. I could still hear the annoying beeping, and I just wanted it to stop. I was too groggy to yell at Rosie to turn it off, though, so I just groaned again and hoped she'd take the hint. _

_But it didn't stop, and when I started to wake up a little more, I realized a few things. _

_First, I wasn't in my bed. This bed was hard and way too narrow. One arm hung off the side and my feet were both hanging off the end. I wasn't too tall for my bed at home, and it was wide enough for me to stretch my arms all the way across. My bed at home was softer and more comfortable. Instead of feeling rested, my body sort of ached. _

_Then I realized that Rosie didn't have an alarm. I always woke her up. I didn't know whose alarm this was, but it wasn't mine. It was way too loud and obnoxious. The pieces were just starting to come together when something loud banged up against the wall next to my bed. I jumped, practically falling off the side, and heard muffled shouts through the wall._

"_Turn that fucking alarm off, Jasper! Jesus fucking Christ."_

_Oh yeah. _

"_Sorry, Seth," I yelled back. He stopped pounding on the wall, and I reached for the alarm on my bedside table to shut it off._

_The same thing happened almost every morning. I forgot where I was. I forgot what had happened. I forgot that Rosie had been taken away from me. Every fucking morning I had to wake up and remember why I was alone in a little room and a too-small bed and not at home with my sister. _

_I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I couldn't make myself get up yet, though, so I slouched over, leaning with my elbows on my knees and rubbing my temples a hard as I could. I hated this part of my day, and I waited while reality slowly sank in._

_I was in a foster home. A temporary foster home. It was definitely a step up from the group home I'd started out in, but not by a lot. I'd only been there for eight days, but that was long enough to know I never wanted to go back. I had my own room now, even if it was tiny. I had a foster mom who I figured was cool as far as these things went. Sue had two kids of her own, Leah and Seth, and took on temporary foster kids like me on top of it. She lost her husband a few years before to a heart attack. Part of me was comforted by having people around me who knew what I went through when my dad died. The rest of me was really fucking jealous that their lives weren't falling apart like mine. Sue kept it together the way my mom never could. She took care of her kids like a mom should, and found the time and energy to help kids who didn't have parents like her. _

_I still wasn't used to having someone like her around. She made us dinner every night and breakfast every morning. Tuesdays were macaroni and cheese nights and Saturdays were always waffles and pancakes – both, because Seth liked pancakes and Leah liked waffles. She asked about how my day went – asked, and really listened when I answered. She didn't push me to talk about anything I didn't want to talk about, but she listened when I did talk. She didn't ask questions when I bought a lock to put on my bedroom door, even though it was kinda hard to miss the pity in her eyes when she looked at it. Or when she looked at me. _

_She was really understanding about the whole situation with Rosie, and she did whatever she could to make me feel better about it. She even let me borrow her car so I could go visit Rosie twice a week, even though she barely knew me. I was pretty sure she felt bad that she didn't have room for both of us. I didn't exactly try to hide the fact that I'd rather be anywhere with Rosie than here by myself. The way Sue looked at me made me feel guilty, and I honestly did appreciate what she was trying to do. Even then, I couldn't make myself trust her._

_I found myself sniffing glasses or bottles of water before I'd take a sip, expecting vodka. I was always skeptical when she promised something, even though she always followed through. I questioned her ulterior motives even though I knew she had none. I hid all my scars from her, Seth, and Leah. I watched the way she was with her kids, looking for clues to abuse I knew didn't exist. I couldn't stop myself from flinching away when she tried to touch me, and it didn't take her long to understand I wanted her to stop trying. And I always, always locked myself in my room at night. After ten years of living the way I had, I just couldn't help it._

_I scratched my fingernails across my chest and yawned, glancing at the clock. Seven thirty-eight. I had to be at work at nine. I pulled on a shirt and grabbed some clothes to change into before unlocking the door and heading down the hallway to shower. The house was still pretty quiet, except for one thing. Seth had obviously fallen back asleep because I could hear him snoring through the walls. Between the two of us, I was surprised we hadn't brought the house down by now. _

_After my shower, I wandered downstairs and found Sue making breakfast._

"_Good morning, Jasper."_

"_Good morning, Mrs. Clearwater."_

"_Good morning, _Sue_," she corrected._

"_Good morning,_ Sue_," I said, exaggerating her name. She started to reach out, probably to pinch my cheek like she'd done the first day I was with her, but she stopped midair and played it off as a wave. I smiled, grateful that she understood._

"_How'd you sleep, honey?"_

"_Fine, thanks. Do you mind if I use your phone for a minute?"_

"_You ask me the same question every morning, Jasper. Every night, too. Have I ever said no?" She was teasing, but gently. I did ask the same question, twice every day. Sometimes more. Every day she laughed and told me I was being too polite. I asked anyway._

"_I know; I was just checking. It's your phone and all."_

"_It's your phone while you live here, too. Just don't call out of the country or anything and I think we'll be okay."_

"_Sure thing, Mrs. Cle – I mean, Sue." I changed direction mid-sentence when she glared at me._

"_That's better. Now go call her, I'm sure she's waiting for you. Breakfast will be ready when you're through."_

_I nodded and picked up the portable phone, heading in to sit in the den so I had a little privacy. I dialed the number from memory, even though I'd never called it until three weeks ago. She picked up on the second ring, like always._

"_Jasper?"_

_I smiled._

"_Hey, sweetie. Good morning."_

"_Good morning."_

"_How'd you sleep?" She sounded tired. I told her she didn't need to wake up this early, but she said she liked talking to me first thing every day. I couldn't argue with that._

"_Okay, I guess. I miss your snoring, though," she laughed._

"_Sure you do. I miss your snoring, too."_

"_I don't snore, Jasper." She didn't sound amused._

"_Well then I guess I just miss you."_

_She was quiet, then, and I worried that I had upset her. Being apart was as hard for her as it was for me, and talking about it didn't seem to make it any easier. _

"_How many days?" she whispered._

"_Nineteen," I said. Nineteen days left until my birthday. "I have a surprise for you, though. I talked to the Cullens yesterday and Carlisle's going to bring you to the pool today after work so we can hang out."_

"_Really?" she squealed. She sounded so excited, and I could picture what her face probably looked like._

"_Really really. I get off at four, and he said his shift is over at five, so he's going to pick you up and we can meet there. Dinner afterward, too, if you're up for it."_

"_I'm definitely up for it," she laughed. I could practically hear her smile._

"_Good. Okay, sweetie, I gotta go eat and get ready for work. I'll see you later, okay? I love you."_

"_Love you too, Jasper," she said. Her voice was quiet again, and I didn't like it when she sounded sad. I couldn't leave her that way. _

"_Don't forget your sunscreen," I said. I knew nagging would get her to laugh, and it worked. _

"_Yeah, yeah, I won't forget. Have a good day."_

"_You too."_

_I hung up the phone and stared at it for a few minutes. It was hard not to be able to see her every day like I was used to. I knew she was in a good home. Carlisle and Esme Cullen had been taking in foster kids for twenty years, and they had adopted three kids of their own on top of it. Our social worker, Kate, had pushed for them to take both me and Rosie, but they just didn't have room at the time. They already had three fosters along with their own kids, and the state wouldn't let them have any more. As much as I wanted to be with Rosie, this situation was only temporary, and I knew I could live with it for the time being. I knew if I was patient, things would end up the way I wanted them to. I had eighteen days left until my court date, and Kate was going to help me make sure the ruling went my way._

_Work was even harder to sit through than usual. Time never passed quickly enough when I wanted it to. It was one of the hottest days of the summer so far, and everyone wanted to either be at home in the air conditioning or out swimming. Every time I looked at the clock, I could have sworn time was moving backwards._

_Finally, it was time to go. I changed into my swim trunks and a t-shirt and hopped a bus down to Zilker. It was pretty much deserted, but when I got close to the Barton Springs, I could hear where the crowd had ended up. The natural swimming pool they built down at the springs was always Rosie's and my favorite spot in the summer. We had our big boulder we always hung out on to dry off and talk or eat lunch. It was shady enough to stay cool on the hottest days, and if we sat on the very edge we could stick our feet in the water. When she was big enough, I taught her how to jump off of it holding my hand, into the deep end. The springs were always cool and nothing felt better on a hot day, even if I did have to keep my shirt on because of my scars. Rosie always had the time of her life._

_I got there a little early and staked out our spot. I only had to wait a few minutes before I saw her running toward me, though. She jumped out of the car and made a bee-line for our spot – no looking around, searching for me; she knew exactly where I'd be._

"_Jasper!" she shouted._

"_Hey there, Rosie-bee!" _

_I jumped down in time for her to collide with my chest, and I nearly fell over at the force of it. I picked her up and hugged her close, and shushed her when I heard her sniffling._

"_Missed you," she cried._

"_I missed you too, sweetie. Come on, don't be sad. We've got a few hours now so let's make the most of it."_

_She nodded against my neck, and I set her down on the ground. She let go of my chest but grabbed my hand instead, like she didn't want to let go all the way. And that was just fine with me. I kissed her cheek where her bruise had been, and quickly scanned the rest of her to make sure there weren't any new marks. I knew Kate trusted the Cullens completely, but I didn't like having Rosie out of my sight. I found a big scrape on her knee, and touched it carefully. _

"_I fell off my bike," she said. I gave her the most serious face I could, and she rolled her eyes at me. "I swear, Jasper. Don't be ridiculous. I hit a rock with my front wheel and fell off. Dr. Cullen was right there with me. He cleaned it up."_

_I laughed, remembering when I'd fallen off my bike when I first learned. With Dad._

"_Why didn't you tell me about it?"_

"_Because I knew you'd over-react."_

"_I would not." She shook her head and glared at me meaningfully. Busted. "Okay, so maybe I would have. That's my job, though. Can you blame me?"_

_I shrugged and gave her my best grin, the one I knew she couldn't resist._

"_I guess not," she said, smiling. _

_I looked up and saw Carlisle standing several feet away, smiling at both of us. He came over to shake my hand, and I tried to be friendly. I wanted to trust him, I really did. I'd made him more than aware of how much my sister meant to me, and how determined I was to keep her safe. I pretty much threatened to bury his body where no one would find it if anything happened to her while she lived in his home. He'd never given me a reason to doubt him, though, and I'd been forced to admit that Rosie was lucky to be in such a good home. _

_I think part of me hated that she didn't need me while she was there. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen gave her everything she needed. Mrs. Cullen took her shopping and out to the movies. They let her paint her room even though she'd hopefully only be there for a few weeks. They seemed to really care about her. They did everything they could to make sure we got to see each other as much as possible. She trusted them. She let them hug her._

_She was safe there, and I had nothing to do with it. They had a happy, loving home, and I wasn't a part of it. I hated that I was jealous of that, but I was. Part of me wondered if she'd be better off staying there permanently. Things were going to be hard for us. Life would always be complicated. It would always be a struggle. Nothing would be easy. Nothing ever had been._

_But then when I saw her, all of that went away. I saw the way her eyes lit up when she saw me. I felt how hard she hugged me. She loved me, and I knew she wanted to live with me as much as I wanted it. She didn't cry happy tears when I sent her home to the Cullens, she cried because she didn't want to go. She didn't look at them the way she looked at me. Even if she let them hug her and take care of her, it wasn't the same. I could see that, and it got me through all my doubts._

"_Come on, Rosie-bee, I saved a spot for you."_

_She smiled. "Gimme a boost?"_

_I helped her up onto our boulder, and Carlisle wandered away to give us some time alone. _

_We talked for hours. About her week, about the other fosters at her house. Some little redheaded shit was giving her a hard time. I told her to show him a picture of me and tell him I'd handle the situation for her. She laughed and told me she could handle it herself. Of course she could. She asked about Seth and Leah, and how my day was at the library. Before long, we ran out of things to talk about that didn't really matter. We always did. _

_That was when I'd pull out my notebook, and we'd talk about our plans. I showed her pictures of some places I'd found to live in. I hadn't found anything perfect yet, but I would. I showed her the school I thought she'd be going to. It was close enough to her old school that she and Tanya would end up in the same high school, but we'd still be far enough away from Mom. I told her about my court date, and we talked about hers. She told me what she was afraid of, and I told her not to worry because I'd take care of everything. I kept my fears to myself. We talked until Carlisle wandered up, clearing his throat gently. The sun was going down, and it was time for dinner… and she had to go home. _

_Without me._

_

* * *

_

**Hey there everyone! Sorry it's been so long, and thanks to everyone who's sticking with me. Your feedback and reviews make me smile every time. A lot of you asked about Charlie and Jasper's phone conversation in chapter 22, so I wrote a short outtake since it's Father's day and all. :) Let me know if you'd like to see it. I also updated my livejournal with a few examples of infrared photography – daisy3853 dot livejournal dot com**

**Scary but exciting news – I signed up for the Fandom Gives Back. Scary because I'm a nervous wreck about it. Exciting because all proceeds benefit Alex's Lemonade Stand, which raises money toward childhood cancer research. It's a wonderful cause, and you should consider checking out all the offerings. So many authors have signed up this time around. I'll be auctioning off a few outtakes from Underexposed, and a separate story that could be original or an outtake from UE… it starts at a one shot but could be a multi-chapter, depending on how much you donate. The auction boards will be open from Friday, June 25****th**** until Friday, July 2****nd****. www dot thefandomgivesback dot com  
**

**Thank you to justaskalice and Lucette21 for being the incredibly awesome betas that they are. Lucette21 just finished her Twilight 25 entries and they're fabulous, so make sure you check it out - www dot fanfiction dot net/s/5956628/1/ **


	24. Refraction

"**One should really use the camera as though tomorrow you'd be stricken blind."**

– **Dorothea Lange**

I feel his eyes on me as I move around the darkroom, even though the room is so dark I can hardly make out his form. He watches me as I walk back from the wash station to my enlarger, and I try to keep my eyes on my work as much as possible so I don't encourage him. He's sitting on a tall stool next to my station, close enough to my side that he can reach out to tease me with a finger drawn up my spine or an appreciative hand on my hip. I swat him away playfully, but he's not discouraged. He finds new ways to touch me in the darkness each time I brush him away, and every one of his touches thrills me.

I'm printing from our infrared assignment, and he's watching me. He claims he doesn't have anything else to work on even though our end of year print show is coming up. I don't believe him, but if he doesn't want me to see what he's printing for the show I'm not going to force him. Instead I sit here, letting him watch me work and trying not to let him distract me. I'm failing at the latter.

"Don't you have something better to do?" I ask, my voice full of indignation I don't really feel.

"Better than this?" He sneaks a finger through one of my belt loops and pulls me gently toward him. I laugh, letting his hands on my hips guide me until I'm standing between his knees. "I can't think of a single thing better at the moment. Sorry."

"You're distracting me."

"You don't seem very angry."

"You're such trouble."

"I think the lady doth protest too much."

"I have work to do!"

"If you really want me to leave, I will."

I don't want him to leave, but I'm enjoying making him pout a little bit. I sigh dramatically, biting my lip and pretending to think really hard about my decision. He calls my bluff, though, dragging me closer and chuckling at the way my fingers involuntarily work their way into his hair.

"Jasper…"

"I'm taking this as your permission for me to stay," he whispers, pulling me closer still.

I shake my head at him, but I'm smiling. His blue eyes are gray in the dim glow of the safelights, but they're still bright with his victory. I kiss the smirk off his lips, smiling wider at the way his fingers dig into my hips in response.

"You can stay," I murmur, leaning closer to bite gently at his jaw. "But…"

"But?"

I twist out of his arms, laughing at the way his mouth hangs open in surprise.

"But keep your hands to yourself, or I'll never finish my prints. And if I don't finish my prints because of your handsy impatience, I'll be going home alone. Then you'll have to be handsy by yourself tonight. And I hardly think that sounds like much fun for you."

"Not much fun at all," he pouts.

"The faster I finish, the sooner we can go home."

He nods slowly, and then grins. "The sooner we go home, the sooner my hands can go back to their handiwork."

"Once we get home, your hands can do whatever they want."

"Is that a promise?"

"Cross my heart and kiss my elbow."

"Can I kiss your elbow?"

"Maybe later," I laugh.

"You're so bossy," he huffs.

"Oh come on. You love me."

"I do. Even when you're bossy. I kinda like Bossy Bella."

I roll my eyes, but he finally gives in, scooting his chair back a few feet until I'm out of arm's reach. His eyes don't ease up, though, and I feel them on me as I continue my work. They watch as I lean over to set the timer at my enlarger station, and as I stand on my tiptoes to slide the negative carrier into place. They wander over me when the light floods over my paper, exposing the image. They follow me to the developer and watch the way my print slides in, the way I gently tilt the tray back and forth. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and the tiny hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand at attention. Every inch of me waits for him to follow his eyes and touch me himself, but he doesn't. His gaze moves tangibly over my skin, and it's enough to thrill me and keep me off balance.

"Jasper…"

"Hey, my hands are behind my back. I am absolutely not running my thumb along your collarbone right now –"

"Jasper!"

"– I'm only thinking about it. And I'm definitely thinking about kissing you there, too, because it looks really fucking soft."

"You're ridiculous."

"You said no hands. _Thinking_ about touching you is clearly within the restrictions."

His grin is evil but it melts me, and I can't argue anymore. I shake my head at him again and go back to my work, trying my best to ignore his eyes on me and the way my traitor body wishes it was his hands on me instead.

"You know we have dinner with Kate and Garrett tonight, right?" he asks.

"I remember something about that."

"We'll have to head straight over once we're finished here, and Rosie's meeting us over there."

"Sounds good to me." We've been over the plan already, but now he seems uncertain and I'm not sure why. I steal a glance and catch his fingers drumming a silent rhythm on his thighs. "What's up over there?"

"I just – I have some things I want to say, and I'm wondering if this was the best way to go about it. It seems like a lot of pressure now."

"Don't do that," I say. I walk back over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. His hands find my hips again, pulling me close, and his thumbs creep up beneath the hem of my shirt. "Garrett's been through a lot with you, and I know your relationship with him is important to you. You'll find the words."

"I know. I never really apologized to him for everything I put him through. He did so much for me, and I wasn't fair to him. He deserves to know how much it all meant. I just want to get this right."

"I think you'll be fine," I whisper, leaning in to kiss him. "It's just Garrett. He loves you, and I guarantee he forgave you a long time ago. Whatever you say, he'll listen." I kiss him again.

"Mmmm," he murmurs, his grip on me tightening.

I kiss him one more time before pulling away to finish my work, and true to his word he keeps his hands to himself. Before long I have a stack of new prints, and we're in Jasper's car on our way to Kate and Garrett's house. I haven't seen them since the last Monday night bowling I went to about three weeks ago, and I'm excited to spend the evening with them. I love watching the dynamics of their little patchwork family.

Rosie runs out the front door, hugging me as soon as we're out of the car. We've been getting closer ever since that night when I picked her up downtown, and I've really enjoyed being around her more; she's becoming the sister I was lonely for growing up. I let her go, smiling to myself when I think of her that way – as my sister – and I see Kate catch the expression on my face and elbow Garrett in the ribs. They're both smiling widely at us.

"Bella! I haven't seen you in way too long," Garrett laughs, sweeping me up into a suffocating hug. "Where has this guy been hiding you? No, wait. I don't think I want to know."

"Shut up, G," Jasper stammers nervously, and I swear his cheeks are tinged with pink. "You're making her uncomfortable."

"You look like you're the uncomfortable one," Garrett teases, pinching Jasper's cheeks. He turns to me and laughs, "Oh no, I spoke too soon. The blush looks better on your girl than it does on you, kid."

"Garrett, leave them both alone before I make _you_ blush." Kate jumps in, grabbing Garrett's hand. The look on his face is priceless.

"I don't blush, woman," he argues defiantly.

"You do, and don't make me demonstrate."

His mouth opens and closes, but he decides against arguing and leans in to kiss her instead. He cradles her cheek with one hand, kissing her forehead, her nose, and then her lips, and she pulls his other hand against her waist. They smile at each other as if they can't see anything or anyone else, and Jasper takes my hand gently.

"Okay enough with the PDA, you two," Rosie interrupts, but she's smiling at their little display, too. "There are children here you know."

Kate laughs, and Garrett looks sheepish.

"You're right, Rosie," she says. "Let's go inside; dinner's almost ready."

We follow them into the house. I've never been here, but it feels like I grew up inside these walls. Everything from the colors to the furniture is soft and comfortable, and I can practically see my past self playing with blocks on the floor or doing homework at the coffee table. Rosie and I help Kate finish up in the kitchen, but soon she abandons us to supervise Garrett on the grill. She's ribbing him for his habit of grilling things "extra-crispy," and he claims he's only trying to guard against e-coli. Everyone is still laughing when we sit down to eat.

I notice Jasper growing uneasy as the dinner dishes are cleared, and I take his hand during dessert, squeezing gently to reassure him. He turns to glance at me, and I nod. He needs to get this out there.

"This was all delicious, Kate," I say, trying to get things going. "Thank you both for having us over tonight."

"Yeah, thanks," Jasper adds. He laughs nervously, glancing sidelong at me before clearing his throat and continuing. "I just wanted to talk to you guys about a few things. You've both done so much for Rosie and me over the years, and I don't think I've ever had the chance to properly thank you. Or apologize for all the hell I put you through. I just –"

"Hey, hold up there," Garrett interrupts. "You don't have to do this. I know – we know. Things were rough for a long time, but you've really turned your life around. I'm proud of you, kid."

"Thanks, Garrett. For everything. And I'm sorry I shut you out for so long. You were always trying to do the right thing for us. You cared about us when we were all alone, and I never gave you enough credit for that. I don't know what we would have done if you'd never come around."

"I'm just glad I passed your test. I'm glad we're friends, Jasper."

Jasper's hand tightens around mine momentarily, but then it's over and he's ducking his head. I'm willing the tears in my eyes not to fall, but I'm looking at the scene before me through their soft haze.

"Me too, G. Me too."

Rosie sniffles, and I wipe my eyes. Dessert has gone cold, but no one seems to notice or care. I look up and catch Garrett brushing a tear off Kate's cheek, kissing the damp trail in its wake. They smile at each other, the same sweet smile from earlier – meant only for each other.

"Plus, taking care of you kids gave me a little practice for having kids of my own," Garrett says.

"You'll be a great dad someday, Garrett," Rosie says.

"You taught me how to shoot a layup," Jasper laughs.

"You taught me how to tie my shoelaces," Rosie adds.

"I was kind of hoping you guys would help me teach the little one some of that," Garrett says, grinning. He reaches for Kate's hand, bringing it to his lips. "Katie?"

She blushes, smiling. "You sure?" He nods earnestly. "Okay, kids… Garrett and I are going to have a baby."

"Are you serious?" Jasper asks.

"She's due mid-October."

Garrett's grin is infectious, and I wonder if Charlie was this excited when he found out about me. He and my mom were so young but so in love, and my mind conjures up fake memories of him laughing, hugging my mom and swinging her in circles. He'd put her down, carefully, and place both hands gently on her still-flat belly, trying too soon to feel my movements. The Charlie in my mind is looking at her like he'll never look at another woman again, like she's hung the moon for him. My mom is crying happy tears and laughing at his excitement. They don't know how this is going to end for her, for both of them, and it doesn't matter. They're happy.

An excited shriek jolts me back to the present, and I'm the only one still sitting at the table. Garrett has Jasper locked in a tight hug, and Rosie and Kate are rocking back and forth in their embrace. I jump to my feet to join in the congratulations, and I've never seen anyone look as happy as Kate and Garrett do in this moment. We sit and talk about first words, first friends, and first memories. We talk about godparents, going to the zoo, and lazy mornings at the park feeding the ducks. Rosie hopes it's a little girl to torment Garrett. Jasper says it should be a boy so he can teach him to dribble, but I see the way he smiles when Kate says she thinks it's a girl.

And just like that, for a few hours, we forget about therapy and diagnoses. We forget about triggers and flashbacks, and all the ways parents and the world can fail you. Because right here – here is something good, something real. Something to talk about, think about, and hope for. And that is everything.

The excitement dies down eventually, and the evening slowly comes to an end. Then Jasper and I are alone in his bed, and it's my favorite place to be. His bare chest is hot against my cheek, and the steady rhythm of his heart keeps time in the peaceful silence. His arms hold me close, so close I don't think I could pull away if I wanted to – but I don't. All I can think of is more. More Jasper, his hands on me in ways that make me shiver – ways that make me feel alive. More slow nights and lazy mornings. More moments like this, skin to skin and holding each other close. More of him, in every way.

"Hey, beautiful?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want that someday? Kids, I mean."

"Someday, yeah. I think so."

"You're not scared? Because of what happened with your mom?"

"No, it wasn't anything genetic. It was just bad luck." I pause, trying to figure out how to put my thoughts into words. I've thought about this a lot. About my life and how I want it to be, or more importantly how I don't want it to be. "It used to scare me, honestly. But then I thought about her and what she'd want for me. I just – there are a million ways something could go wrong in your life, and none of them having to do with that. You know?"

Here's where the Jasper I met eight months ago would have tensed up and closed off. I know I'm talking about his dad and so does he, but instead of pulling away, he hugs me tighter. I feel his arms against my skin and his lips pressing into my hair. I feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, and then the gentle vibrations when he starts to speak.

"Yeah, you're right. Just one more thing you can't hide from."

"Exactly. That's no way to live. I don't want to go through life being afraid. I want to be happy."

"Me too."

"What about you? With the kids?"

"It used to scare me, too. I used to think there was no way. Not with how my mom was. Why would I risk it? If being that kind of parent was in my blood? But I'm not her. My dad was a good dad. It was fucked up, what she did, but that's not me. I could be better."

"You would be," I murmur. I kiss his chest, and his arms tighten around me again. "Look at Rosie. You'd be amazing."

And then we're both quiet again, and I drift to sleep with his arms around me and his heartbeat echoing through me. And when I'm on the edge of consciousness, I almost miss him whisper, "You'll be amazing, too."

–***–*–**

_**August 8, 1996 (Jasper is 9, Rosie is 3)**_

_Rosie and I sat out on the front porch together, alone. I was trying to teach her how to dribble a basketball. We'd been practicing for an hour, but Rosie wasn't really that interested. Instead she was talking about a million miles a minute while I sat there and bounced the ball by myself. Summer was boring sometimes. It was so hot, but we couldn't go to the pool or anything until Mom woke up from her nap. She'd been so tired lately. _

_Some days she was fine, almost like before Dad died. She'd wake up in a good mood, and we'd all have fun together. She'd make us pancakes for breakfast and take us out to the swimming pool or the zoo. Some days we'd go see a movie and we'd sneak in brownies and milk instead of buying candy. Some days she'd take us to Zilker Park so we could fly my kite. Rosie was too little to do it herself, but I let her help me. She'd hold the end of the string and I'd tell her she was doing it all by herself. My favorite days were when Mom would wake us up extra early. We'd take a breakfast picnic down to the lake and feed the ducks and swans before it got hot. Rosie would laugh and try to catch them. Even though it made me happy, I'd always start to think about my dad. I'd wish I had my camera so I could take pictures of her. I hadn't taken any pictures since he died. _

_Mom had been really sad for the first few months after, but then for awhile she started to have more happy days. I wondered if having us home all day over the summer was making her extra tired though. She seemed sadder again, and she had more sad days than happy days. I missed her when she was like that – on the sad days – almost as much as I missed my dad. She was so different. It was like she was gone sometimes too. She took naps almost every day, and I took care of Rosie. I didn't mind because Rosie was my baby sister, and I knew she was my responsibility, too. Dad told me she was, and even if he hadn't, I'd still take care of her. I loved her, and I'd always look out for her. I was the man of the house and I had to act like it._

_Rosie and I watched a big moving truck pull up in front of the house next door, and then a man in a red Jeep. He was really tall, with light hair like mine. He talked to the men from the truck for awhile and then they all started unloading. The house had been empty all summer, but I guessed we were finally getting a new neighbor._

"_Jasper, who's that mans?" Rosie asked._

"_That _man_, Rosie. Just man. I don't know who he is, but I guess he's moving in next door."_

"_Can we play with him?"_

"_No, we don't know him. We don't play with strangers, Rosie."_

"_No strangers." She nodded._

_We watched him help the movers carry all his stuff inside. He looked really strong, and he laughed and joked with them a lot even though it was so hot out. He didn't seem to care. I wondered who he was and where he came from. He was all alone, but maybe he had a family coming too. He didn't look very old, but it was hard to tell from across the yard. If he was alone, maybe he'd want to be our friend. Or maybe he'd keep to himself like our other neighbor. I hoped not._

_It only took them about an hour to unload all his stuff, and then the movers drove away. The man disappeared into his house for a few minutes, but then he came back out and sat on his front porch. He caught me looking at him, and he smiled when Rosie waved. He waved back, and I didn't smile. I wasn't sure about him yet. He jumped up off the porch and jogged down the sidewalk and over to our house. I was nervous, and I almost grabbed Rosie and ran inside. I didn't though. I didn't know anything about this guy, but something about him told me it was okay. I didn't want to run away._

"_Hey there," he said. He grinned at both of us the whole way up the walkway to our house, and he was still smiling just standing there. Rosie was bouncing on her feet next to me. I could tell she was excited._

_I didn't answer, but I stared at him. He looked nice enough. He squatted down so he wasn't taller than me, and Rosie giggled. He was still a stranger, though. My dad didn't want me talking to strangers._

"_My name's Garrett, what's yours?"_

"_Hi! I'm Rosie." _

_I grabbed her hand and pulled her until she was standing behind me. _

"_Shh, Rosie. We don't talk to strangers."_

"_I'm not a stranger, kid," he laughed. "I'm your new next door neighbor."_

"_You're still a stranger to us."_

"_That's too bad. I thought we could all be friends."_

"_I don't need a friend," I said. I scowled at him, but he just smiled back. He smiled a lot._

"_I'm sure you don't, but I'm new here. I could sure use a friend."_

"_I like him," Rosie whispered. It was really too loud for a whisper, and he laughed when he heard her._

"_If you want to be friends, you're gonna have to pass the test first," I said. If he answered all my questions, maybe it was okay to be friends with him. He probably wouldn't answer them all right anyway._

"_And if I pass this test, you'll let me be your friend?" he asked. _

"_I guess so."_

"_Shake on it?"_

_I looked him right in the eye, just like my dad taught me. I wanted him to be my friend. I missed my dad, and Mom was still so sad. It'd be nice to have someone else around to hang out with, especially if he was just next door. I nodded and reached out to shake his hand._

"_Football or basketball?" I asked._

"_Football to watch, basketball to play."_

_He tried to steal my basketball away, but I held it behind my back so he couldn't reach it._

"_Longhorns or Sooners?"_

"_Don't insult me, kid. Better dead than Sooner red."_

"_Do you know how to play HORSE?"_

"_I practically invented the game. Do you know how to shoot a layup?"_

"_No."_

"_I could teach you."_

_My dad was going to teach me, but we never got around to it._

"_Superman or Batman?" _

"_Superman could kick Batman's a– um, I mean he could take Batman any day. Batman doesn't even fly."_

_I nodded. So far he seemed cool, but the last question was the most serious and important question of all. I could never be friends with someone like the man who killed my dad. Even if he hated the Sooners as much as I did._

"_Do you ever drink and drive?" I asked. Garrett looked at me like I was crazy for a minute and almost laughed, but then he got very serious._

"_Never. It's wrong, dangerous, and against the law. I'm in law school, so one day I'll be a lawyer. That means I help punish people who break the law, and it would be extra irresponsible of me to break one myself. So, no. I would never do that."_

"_Good. I guess we can be friends, then."_

"_Okay, kid. Sounds like a fair deal to me."_

"_My name's not kid, it's Jasper. Jasper Whitlock."_

"_I'm Garrett Adams. It's nice to meet you, Jasper Whitlock," he said. He reached out to shake my hand again. "And you too, Rosie."_

"_You're really tall," said Rosie. Garrett and I both laughed. Sometimes she said the most random things. She tried to shake his hand too, and then he kissed it. She giggled._

"_You're right; I'm a lot taller than you. In fact, I think I'll call you short stack. What do you think?"_

"_But I'm not short!" she laughed._

"_That's funny, you look pretty short to me," Garrett said. He scratched his chin and pretended to think, just like my dad used to do. I tried not to laugh, but he caught me and winked. He held one of his hands over his head, like he was measuring how tall he was, and then slid it out until it was over her head. She looked up at his hand and bit her lip. She was a lot shorter than him, even when he was squatting. "Just as I suspected. You're definitely shorter than I am, Rosie. I'm gonna have to call you short stack now. It's the law."_

"_The _law_?" she asked. Her eyes were wide like quarters, and her mouth was shaped like an 'o'. _

"_The _law_," he answered. He nodded like it was the most serious thing in the world._

"_Did the policemens say so?" Rosie asked. She was still standing mostly behind me, hugging my leg._

"_I'm afraid the policemens did say so, and so did the firemens."_

_She nodded. "That's a lot of lawmens."_

"_So can I call you short stack now? It's just like a short stack of pancakes." _

_She wrinkled her nose at him. "With syrups on top?"_

"_Lots of syrups. I bet you're just as sweet as syrups, aren't you?" He smiled._

"_She's sweeter," I said. _

_Rosie giggled and let go of my leg. She took one step toward Garrett, but stopped and turned to look at me. I guessed she was asking if it was okay, so I nodded. She smiled really big and jumped on Garrett with a hug. He was strong enough not to fall down, but he played along and let her tackle him all the way to the ground. We all started laughing – Rosie the loudest._

"_You're stronger than you look, short stack," he said. "I'll have to remember that."_

"_I'm the most strongest," she said, nodding._

"_So Jasper, are we friends now?" he asked._

"_You should probably meet my mom first," I said. "That way you won't be a stranger anymore, and we can hang out like real friends do."_

"_Alright, then call her out here. I'm ready," he said, nodding. He stood up and turned to Rosie, holding his arms out wide. "How do I look, short stack?"_

"_You look like my friend."_

"_You're smart," he laughed._

"_Umm, Mom can't come outside right now," I said. He stopped smiling._

"_Where is she?" He looked around, stopping when he saw her car in the driveway._

"_She's… taking a nap, I think. She was sleepy."_

"_She's taking a nap, and you're in charge?" he asked. He looked surprised._

"_I take good care of Rosie," I said. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look tough. "I'm the man of the house now. I can take care of her."_

_He looked from me to Rosie, and back again. He was scrunching his eyebrows together like my mom did sometimes when she was upset. I hoped I hadn't upset him already. I really did want a friend._

"_I bet you do, kid. Where's your dad?"_

"_He's… umm…" _

"_Daddy went to heaven with the angels," Rosie interrupted. "Jasper says they takes care of him now."_

_I looked at my shoes. I didn't want to see the way he'd look at me, knowing my dad was gone. I didn't like how people looked at us once they knew. Like they felt sorry for us. Even Peter and his parents looked at us funny now. Mrs. Kerby still brought us dinner every Wednesday night, and every time she came over she had the same sad look on her face. We would always be different like that, and I was tired of it._

_I finally looked up when I felt his hand on my shoulder. He was squatting down in front of me again, and he didn't look like he felt sorry for me. He was smiling at me._

"_So you're the man of the house, huh? I bet you take really good care of Rosie here." _

_I smiled, and he squeezed my shoulder._

"_What'd you like to do for fun with your dad?" he asked._

"_Jasper says he carried me up on his shoulders. He was the most strongest."_

"_I'm pretty strong too, you know. I bet I could do it if you'd let me." _

_He held his hand out to Rosie, and she took it. He swung her up onto his shoulders like it was nothing. I couldn't do that. I could give her piggyback rides now, but that was about it. Garrett turned around in circles as fast as he could, and Rosie giggled like crazy. _

"_I'm dizzies! I'm dizzies! Whoooa!" she laughed. He set her back down on her feet and held onto her hands while she wobbled back to me. I caught her and hugged her, and she was still shaking with laughs. "So silly, Garrett. You're so silly."_

"_How about you, Jasper? What'd you do with your dad?"_

"_Umm. My dad taught me how to take pictures. He gave me his camera."_

"_Do you still like to take pictures?"_

"_I don't have any film anymore," I said. My mom hadn't bought any since he died, and I hadn't asked her to. My camera had been hiding in the back of my sock drawer. It still hurt to look at it, and I didn't think it'd ever stop hurting. He had taken my last roll of film to get developed before the accident, and I never went back to pick it up. I didn't want to ask my mom to take me. It hurt me too much to think about it, and I didn't want to hurt her too. _

"_Tell you what. You show me your camera, and I'll go get you some film for it. I have a camera too, and I haven't used it in ages. We can practice together. Sound good?"_

"_Okay," I said. "I guess I can try."_

"_That's all I ask." He smiled, and then looked off at the sunset for a minute. It was getting close to dinnertime. "I better get back to my house and start unpacking. I'm glad we're friends already, though. I was worried I'd be lonely here."_

"_I'm glad we're friends, too," I said. I meant it. _

_He smiled, messed up Rosie's hair, and patted me on the shoulder again. Then he was gone. We watched him jog back over to his house, and he waved from his front porch. Rosie jumped up and down and waved back._

"_Come on, Rosie," I said when he'd gone inside. "Are you ready for dinner?"_

"_Yes! I'm so hungries."_

"_I'm hungries, too. Come on, sweetie."_

_I grabbed her hand, and we walked inside together. Mom was still napping, but I made us peanut butter sandwiches for dinner. She must have been pretty tired to sleep all afternoon like that. She woke up in time to help me give Rosie a bath and put her to bed, and then we sat on the couch and watched a movie until it was my bedtime. _

_I thought about Garrett a lot that night. I didn't tell Mom about him, and I wasn't sure why. I didn't usually keep secrets from her. Garrett seemed like a good secret to keep though, at least for awhile. I was sure she'd meet him soon anyway since he was just right next door, but I liked having my new friend all to myself. I didn't know if she'd like me and Rosie being friends with another grownup. She might think we were trying to replace Dad. But she was tired all the time, and even though I loved Rosie, she was still just a baby. I didn't get to see my friends from school as much. Even Peter. _

_Garrett was a real friend. A grown up friend. He reminded me of my dad just a little bit, and I missed my dad. I missed him a lot. I didn't want to replace him, but Garrett made me miss him a little bit less. I forgot about how everyone else treated me because Garrett wasn't like that. Garrett was different. When he was hanging out with us, I felt like the old Jasper. The kid I used to be. Even if it was just for a few minutes._

_

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**Thank you so much for reading. :)**

**Just a couple of announcements… Lucette21, KateeH00R, and TwiCarol were each generous enough to buy an Underexposed outtake from the Fandom Gives Back auction. I'll be posting them (along with any other outtakes) as a separate story once they're completed. If you'd like to read them and you don't have me on author alert, you might want to add me. **

**Also, I started posting my entries for round three of the Twilight 25. The prompts are photos this time, and I'm having a blast writing them. There's already a little Jasper/Maria and a vamp Darksper one shot in the mix, with a lot more Jasper to come. Check out the link on my profile.**

**Finally, love as always to justaskalice and Lucette21 for being my betas. They're amazing.**


	25. Reciprocity

"**Which of my photographs is my favorite? The one I'm going to take tomorrow."**

– **Imogen Cunningham **

I sit on Jasper's couch with my feet propped up on the coffee table, holding another pair of feet in my lap. They're smaller than mine, and soft, and in the flickering light of the television I can barely tell the toenails are painted purple. Jasper is working in the darkroom tonight on his super secret print show entry, and Rosie and I are having a girls' night, complete with a movie marathon and too much ice cream. I never thought I'd be here, with a boyfriend who's practically a parent to his little sister, who I think of as practically my own. It's a crazy setup, but it doesn't feel crazy. I feel like I've stumbled upon everything I've been missing. I smile and reach out to tickle one of her feet when –

"_Isabella Swan_, don't make me hurt you." Rosie doesn't even take her eyes off the screen, but her threat is sincere.

"Oh please. I could take you, _Rosalie._"

I feel her shake with silent giggles, but she still doesn't look up.

"How do you know Jasper hasn't sold you out? He could have told me all your weaknesses."

I open my mouth to retort, fighting my paranoid instinct. What could he possibly have told her?

"I don't have any weaknesses. And anyway, you don't scare me, short stack. I've heard you snort."

She pulls her feet out from my lap and sits up quickly, tucking her knees to her chest.

"He says you're ticklish, like me. And you snort too, sometimes."

"He's telling stories," I lie. "You shouldn't listen to him."

She rolls her eyes and leans closer, speaking softly even though there's no one around to overhear our secrets.

"You like to play on the swings at the park."

"Who doesn't?" I laugh, but there's a nervous edge to it now.

"He says sometimes you talk in your sleep. Most of the time it's random stuff that doesn't make sense, but sometimes it's more than that."

"I don't… I mean I'm not… I do _not_ talk in my sleep." I know I used to because Charlie teases me about it. I had no idea I still did, and Jasper sure hasn't mentioned it.

"You do too. He says it's really cute."

"Pshh." I pull my own knees up to my chest, mimicking her pose. I'm getting uncomfortable and I don't know why. I don't know if it's because he's been talking about me to his sister or just because he's been talking about me.

"He thinks you're the most beautiful when you think he isn't watching you, like when you're playing on the swings. It's like your smile is just for you, and he feels like he's spying or something. He says you're like that in the darkroom, too. Or when you're out with your camera."

"Rosie…" I begin, but I don't know how to finish. So I stare back, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly. I have no words. They aren't even stuck in my throat, they're entirely nonexistent. She smiles gently but doesn't look away, and I get so flustered that I finally turn to face the television. I can't see what's on the screen though. I can't see anything.

"Don't be mad at him, B. He can't help it. He's crazy about you."

"I'm not mad. I'm just… I don't know. Surprised, I guess."

"You're crazy. I can't wait to see your face when you see."

"My – wait, what?"

We're interrupted when Jasper walks in the front door. I hear him drop his keys in the dish on the kitchen table and rummage through the refrigerator, probably looking for a late dinner.

"You'll see soon enough. Good surprise, I promise," she whispers cryptically. Jasper walks in, and she stands up to leave. "Hello, brother dear! I'm going to go finish my homework like a good little girl. Goodnight!"

"Mmm gu-ni Wo –" Jasper says around a bite of a sandwich. Rosie laughs, so he chews his bite and swallows before trying again. "Goodnight, Rosie."

"Goodnight, _Rosalie_," I call. She sticks her tongue out and turns to head to her room.

I expect Jasper to sit down next to me on the couch, but he sits at the far end instead.

"Hey, you," I say, scooting closer.

"Hey," he mumbles, offering a half-smile. His eyes are heavy, and I don't know what's weighing him down.

"How was the darkroom?"

"Dark." He shrugs. His posture is stiff, tense, and my body begins to mimic his as I watch him. I can feel my shoulders tighten as an invisible weight settles over me.

"Did you finish your prints?"

"Almost." He takes another bite of his sandwich, and now he has an excuse not to talk. I sigh.

He turns to the television, seemingly engrossed in the movie now. I feel a chill move up my spine and over my scalp, raising all the tiny hairs in its path. I cross my arms over my chest and slide away from him again, and I can feel the goose bumps that have risen on my skin. Something isn't right, and I don't know what. I stand up. I need a little room to think.

"I'm going to get in bed," I say. He nods. "Umm. Goodnight I guess."

"I'll be in soon," he offers, and then fills his mouth with his sandwich again.

I get ready for bed quickly, crawling under the covers to wait for him in the dark. He was fine this afternoon, and I'm not sure what's happened since to bring about such a change. He's been so happy lately, even with all the tension around his mother's reappearance. He's never like this with me anymore. We talk things through. We don't push each other away. I'm not sure how long I'm alone with my own thoughts before I hear him wandering down the hallway. He disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes, and I take a deep breath. I'm sure this is nothing. A bad day. I'll kiss him goodnight, and he'll tell me about it in the morning.

He strips to his boxers and slides into bed with me. I lean over to kiss him, but his lips meet my forehead first. He lies down, but I sit up next to him, my lips still aching to kiss his, my knees drawn to my chest with my arms tight around them. His eyes dart to me a few times, and mine never leave him. He looks uncomfortable.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Fine. Just tired." He offers me another weak smile, but I don't return it. He looks away to stare at the ceiling.

That isn't Jasper, and it definitely isn't us. We don't do awkward glances and tense silences. He doesn't avoid making eye contact with me or turn away when I try to talk to him. I won't _let_ him, because we left all that uncertainty behind months ago. He wants to move forward with his life and so do I.

Sometimes he still retreats into himself, though, the way he is right now. He gets quiet and reflective, and despite my concerns, I can almost see the daydreams in his eyes right now. He doesn't look haunted as he would if this were an episode. He just looks… lost in thought. Sometimes he needs to work through things a little bit before he's ready to talk about it, so I decide that for now, I'm fine with waiting. I can be patient if that's what he needs.

So instead of pushing him to talk, I pull him closer to me. We can still be physically close even though his mind is somewhere distant. I lay my head on his bare chest and feel his heart beating steadily against my cheek. The sound and vibrations ground me, and I'm reassured that he's _here_. He's flesh and blood and so tangible against my skin, and he's not going anywhere. He's still quiet but whispers that he loves me, and his fingers thread idly through my hair. His arms are tight around me, holding me close and comforting me. I smile as I drift off to sleep.

I'm confused when something startles me awake sometime later. It's still dark out, so not morning yet, and I have no idea how long I've been asleep. My heart's beating frantically, and I reach out for Jasper. My fingers brush against him and then I feel his strong arms surround me. He whispers soothing words in my ear, and I feel myself begin to relax.

"What's wrong, beautiful? Did you have a nightmare?"

"I don't think so," I mumble, my voice raw and heavy with sleep. "Maybe? I don't remember. I just… I felt like I was falling when I woke up. I don't know what happened."

"Shh, it's okay now. Go back to sleep."

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I was already up."

"What time is it?"

"Almost three. I can't sleep."

I feel him tense when he says it, and I know it's more than a little bit of insomnia. I push sleep away and sit up, turning to face him. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I can see his face where the moonlight falls across it. His eyes are weary and his features stiff. I won't be able to sleep again, knowing he's lying awake next to me. I wanted to be patient, but I decide it's time to give a little push.

"Jasper, please talk to me. I know you're upset, and you're starting to worry me."

He sits up as I speak, his knees nudging mine, and reaches out for my hand. His face relaxes slightly as he threads his fingers with mine, and he closes his eyes. I wait for his answer.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he murmurs. "I talked to my mom today, to set up another meeting. It's a lot to take in, you know? Everything with her… trying to be part of our lives again, or whatever she's trying to do."

"You can talk to me about it, you know."

"I know. It's just – things have been good with us. But I've been thinking about her a lot lately. About how things were with her." He pauses, his brow furrowed, and I squeeze his hand to reassure him. He looks up; his eyes are so tired and his voice is bitter. "With her, I was always waiting. Waiting for her to snap when something set her off. Waiting to see the bottles start showing up again after she'd thrown them all out. It was always like that with her. She'd make these big grand gestures, and then Rosie and I would wait for the other shoe to drop. It always did."

"You're afraid I'm going to, what – turn on you or something?" I struggle to keep my voice steady, but I don't know where he's going with this and it worries me.

"No, nothing like that. Come here."

He pulls me toward him until I'm sitting sideways in his lap, my cheek against his chest and his chin resting on my head. I can't see him this way but I can _feel_ him, and sometimes I think that's more important. His heartbeat is steady and true, and his skin feels so warm against mine. His chest rises and falls gently, and I swear I'll never get tired of being with him like this. There's something so intimate about holding someone close enough to feel them breathe, to feel their heart beat. I feel like it's more than just touching – more than just skin against skin. It's just him and me, and it soothes me like nothing else can.

"Then what is it?"

"I know you, Bella. You're not her."

"Then what are you so afraid of?" My words are calm but they don't suit me; inside I'm scrambling, trying not to panic. I need to reassure him, but all I really want is for him to reassure me.

"Sometimes I'm afraid of losing you," he whispers, so quietly that the sound barely reaches my ears even though his lips are only inches away.

"That's not going to happen," I say, my voice strong and determined. "I won't let it."

He pauses before answering, and I feel him tense beneath me for a moment. Before I can respond to it, he relaxes. I wonder briefly if it was an episode; he's getting so much better about pulling himself out of them.

"You don't understand, Bella. It's never been this simple for me before. I lost everything when my dad died. I want so many things, but it's hard to believe I can have them." He holds my hand with one of his, and his other works its way across my cheek and into my hair. His touch is so gentle, but it's enough to set my heart racing. He leans his forehead against mine, and his words are barely a whisper between us. "You give me hope that I can have everything I thought I couldn't. You make me want it – all of it."

"What do you want?" I ask. He's quiet for a long time, and if he weren't touching me I'd wonder if he'd slipped away. I shift closer to him, turning letting my cheek brush against his jaw until my lips meet the curve of his neck, and I hear him exhale sharply. I smile.

It should be such a simple question, but for him it's so much more complicated. It's a balance of wants and needs, fears and limitations, and Rosie. He's spent so much of his life putting himself last that it's always his first instinct. He pushes away what he wants and dreams about and never lets himself hope. He keeps his eyes down and his chin up and does what needs to be done. He has his battle plan and he sees it through, no matter what. He doesn't know how to do it any differently; that's who he is. It's one of the things I love about him, but I want more for him. I want so much more.

"Jasper?"

"I want a _life_, Bella – a life that doesn't revolve around all these memories. I'm tired of feeling like I can't be a whole person because of them. I'm tired of missing out on just being normal."

I shift, moving to straddle his lap so I can see his face. I need to look at him while I say this.

"You can have a normal life. You deserve one."

"I want one, with you. God, I want it so badly."

His eyes are pleading with me to believe him, and I do. His expression is all sincerity and truth.

"Tell me what you want."

"Someday I'd like to be able to hear _You Are My Sunshine_ without remembering all the times I sang it to Rosie while she cried," he whispers, his eyes pained. "I'd like to forget the night she sang it to me."

"You will," I say, my voice firm. He nods but doesn't look convinced.

"I want to take you and Rosie downtown for snow cones without thinking about bloody lips," he murmurs, his thumb dragging slowly, heavily, across my bottom lip. His eyes follow the movement, or maybe he's watching the way my tongue tastes the skin there once his thumb is gone.

"Cherry is the best," I whisper, smiling. He kisses me, and I can almost taste the sweetness of that kiss on South Congress so long ago.

"It tasted good on you, that's for sure," he says, laughing. He pulls back to look at me and holds my face gently, his thumbs barely brushing over the apples of my cheeks. His voice turns strong and confident. "I want to dance with you on Sunday afternoons in our living room, just because we can, and without worrying that it'll cause a flashback. I want to be able to read _Goodnight Moon _to our daughter without thinking about how I felt the day my dad died."

"Me, too," I choke out. His words thrill me and scare me at the same time, and I'm high on adrenaline and hope.

"I want to be able to look at my childhood and only see the happy memories. I'm so tired of reliving the bad ones." He pauses, reaching down to take my hands in his. His thumb traces idly over the scar on my forefinger, and he watches the movement for a moment, a faint smile on his lips. When he looks up again, his eyes are soft and pleading, and his voice matches. "I want – I want to replace all my bad memories with new ones. Good ones. With you. I want to love you without wondering if one day you're going to wake up and decide this is all just too complicated. And I know you, Bella. I know you won't, but God – this part of me that worries about things like that might never go away. _She_ did that to me, and I don't know how else to fix it but to just keep trying. Keep loving you. Keep trusting you to love me. That's all I know how to do."

"That's all there is; that's all anyone needs," I say, urging him to understand me. "That's all I want. I want you, Jasper. Just you."

"I want you, too… whatever future you'll give me. I'm in this all the way, Bella, for as long as you'll have me."

"And what if I want you for a long time?" I ask quietly.

I stare at his chin because I can't quite meet his eyes. Despite all the promises of a future together, and no matter how tangible that future seems to me, I feel uncertain as I ask him. I want him to be as certain as I am. I want this to be it for me, for him, for both of us – together.

He tilts my chin up slightly and waits until my eyes are on his. "I'm kind of counting on that."

I smile, but it's more than just my lips. I feel like all of me smiles, if that's possible. I feel lighter, happier, incandescent, and it reaches every inch of my skin and down to my bones.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been surer. Happiness for me means you, beautiful. Simple as that."

He seals his words with a kiss so strong and sweet, it steals my breath and my sense of time and place. My heart races as my mind goes still. I know I'm in his arms because I can feel them around me, pulling me closer and yet not close enough, but when and where have no meaning in this moment. I'm air – lighter than air – and I'm floating on his words, his touch, and his lips on mine.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that."

He chuckles softly, and the sound brings another smile to my lips. "I sure hope not. Otherwise I'm going to run out of ways to entertain you."

"I doubt that. You're pretty entertaining, Mr. Whitlock."

"I'm glad you think so, Miss Swan," he says, and the smile he's wearing should carry a warning.

I feel my cheeks warm with a blush, and I'm grateful for the darkness around us. He's not fooled, though, and his eyes rake over my traitor skin. He reaches up, gently brushing the backs of his fingers over the apple of my cheek. His touch should be cool against my burning skin, but it's anything but. He moves so slowly, so tantalizingly, and I feel my eyelids flutter and then close.

"Bella, look at me," he murmurs, so close I can feel his words on my skin. I open my eyes, and he smiles. "Hey, beautiful."

"Hey, you."

He kisses me again and this time when he pulls away, he takes my shirt with him. I don't see where he drops it because his lips are on mine again. I lean back until I'm against the pillows, and Jasper follows.

He kisses along my jaw and then down my neck, and I gasp when his teeth scrape gently over my collarbone. I feel his lips pull into a smile before he soothes the spot with a lingering kiss. His hands leave my hips to slide my underwear down, along with his own boxers, and soon they both join my shirt. And then he's above me, his eyes steady on mine. He's close – so close I feel his breath come in quick puffs across my face. I feel his weight settle in on top of my body, and I bite my lip in anticipation.

He leans in to press his lips to the skin of my neck, just beneath my ear – the skin he owns because no one has ever kissed it the way he does. His fingers trace my hips like he owns them, too, and he does. No one else has held them with such a perfect mix of urgency and tenderness. His lips move back to mine – my stubborn lips that will never want to kiss any but his. My skin knows the scent of him, his taste. I've never wanted to belong to someone else before; he owns every inch of me. I can tell he knows when he touches me the way he is right now. He knows enough of my secrets to make me fall apart in the best ways possible, and I want to give him the rest of our lives to uncover the rest. My body knows this is where I belong, and so do I.

His eyes never leave mine – not when we come together, nor when he starts to move within me. Not once we find a rhythm together that makes my toes curl and my back arch up off the bed. Not when he pulls me closer, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my lower back. Not when I wrap my legs around him, desperate to be nearer. I can't tell if my cheeks are burning anymore because the heat of his touch consumes all of me. Every inch of me is a live wire; his skin against mine completes the circuit, and together we burn.

It's always this way with us. Close is never close enough, but every time he makes love to me I feel closer to him. He's not the same boy who was so unsure the first time he touched me. His hands know my body better than my own do, and soon he has me trembling beneath him. He grips me tighter when he hears his name fall from my lips. Through all of it, his eyes tie him to me, and with mine on his, I watch him come undone.

He finally collapses against me, and I wrap my arms around him. He murmurs my name against my neck over and over, and over again. _Bella, Bella, beautiful Bella._ With him, I am. I've never felt as beautiful as I do when he's with me, whispering my name against my naked skin and holding me as close as he can manage. My gentle fingers trace the rough patterns on his back as we both come down from our highs. Our breathing gradually evens out, and our heartbeats slow, keeping rhythm with one another. He eases off of me, adjusting his weight to rest beside me on the bed. His eyes find mine again, and now they look tired but content.

He kisses his spot on my neck, my jaw, my chin, my nose. He kisses my chin again, my closed eyelids, and the corner of my satisfied smile. He grumbles when I pull away to use the restroom, and I giggle. Despite the late hour and our exhaustion, he's awake and waiting for me when I come back. He pulls me close again until my cheek finds its place above his beating heart.

"Feel better?" I tease.

He shrugs, feigning indifference. I smack him on the shoulder and try to pull away, but his arms hold tight around me.

"I think 'better' might be an understatement." He laughs, and kisses my forehead. "I forgot what I was worried about."

"That's because you were all worried about nothing."

"You're right. Nothing to worry about." His fingers trail down my spine, his touch so barely-there it toes the line of a tickle.

"I told you I'm always right," I say, shivering. "You never listen to me."

I tilt my head back until his eyes are on mine, and he smiles. "I always listen to you."

Then his lips are on my lips, slow and patient. These aren't the same heated kisses from before that make me burn for his touch. These are different; they spark something quiet and tender, where we both know it's not going anywhere but neither of us care. It's just enough to have this: his forefinger gently tipping my chin up to his sweet and simple kiss, his other hand steady on my back. It's enough when he breaks away a moment later to lean his forehead against mine. It's enough when he kisses my nose and then pulls me back to his chest, his chin resting above my head. It's enough for me to lie here in his arms, warm skin on warm skin, our quiet breaths barely breaking the silence.

I lie awake until his body relaxes around mine and his breathing evens out. His chest rises and falls beneath me, and my eyelids grow heavier by the second. I shift my body slightly and feel his arms tighten. I smile. I want to fall asleep this way every night. I kiss his chest and surrender to sleep, knowing he'll still be beside me when I wake up.

–***–*–**

_**July 11, 2005 (Jasper is 17, Rosie is 12)**_

_Kate and I sat at the Clearwaters' kitchen table with a pile of papers and photos spread out in front of us. We'd been looking for houses for me and Rosie all afternoon, and both of us were more than ready to be done. She handed me another listing, and I shook my head._

"_No, it's no good." I said. "It looks too… I don't know. I don't like it."_

_She tried not to let me see her sigh, but I noticed anyway. Her shoulders had gotten really tense in the last two hours, and she'd been drinking more and more coffee. She was tired. Tired of this. And I knew it. I folded my arms in front of me and banged my forehead on the table a couple times before resting it there. I hated this._

"_So what exactly are we looking for?" Kate asked. It wasn't the first time she'd tried to figure out what I was trying to find. It definitely wasn't the first time I didn't have an answer._

"_I don't know. I just… I'll know it when I see it."_

"_We've already walked through five different houses, Jasper. We've looked at a hundred listings over the past few weeks. You're starting to run out of options in your price range, and we've got a week until we see the judge. Can we narrow it down a little bit?"_

_She spread the lists and pictures we'd put together out over the table, pushing a few new listings forward. At this point my eyes were starting to burn and all the houses we'd looked at were blurring together. _

"_I told you, I don't know. I mean, they're all okay. I just don't love any of them. I want a _home_ for Rosie, not just some place that's only okay. I want her to be happy. Comfortable."_

_I knew it was dumb, and we were running out of time before Rosie's and my court dates. I had so many decisions to make and so many things to be responsible for. This was what I needed, though. I had to keep reminding myself that. This was worth fighting for. All of this meant I got to keep Rosie, and I'd do anything to make that happen. _

"_Hey, look at me," she said, and her voice was much softer now. I turned to her, and she was smiling gently at me. "Rosie's going to be happy because she's with you. You don't have to have the perfect house with the perfect yard behind a white picket fence. She needs somewhere safe and comfortable, and she needs you."_

_Kate always knew how to reassure me. I'd only known her a few weeks, but she was already good at knowing when to push me and when to let things go. She didn't let me get away with anything or give me a chance to feel overwhelmed. She always tried to make me see what I was doing right. She believed in me, and that made me believe in myself. She'd handled our case since the day we were removed from our home, and even though I had a hard time relying on people, it was hard not to trust Kate. She reminded me a lot of Garrett. I didn't really want to think about him, though._

"_You're right. I'm sorry, Kate. I don't know why I'm making it so hard."_

"_It's okay, kiddo. It's kinda cute." She pinched my cheek, and I swatted her hand away, embarrassed. _

"_Leave me alone." I said, laughing._

"_Are you blushing? That's adorable."_

"_Shut up. My cheek is red because you pinched me. Hard."_

"_You're blushing because you're embarrassed that I think you're cute. If it was just from the pinch, this one wouldn't be red, too." She pinched my other cheek, and I laughed again._

"_Hands off," I ordered. "We've got to finish with these." _

_We did need to finish, but that was only an excuse to get her to stop teasing me. I didn't think about it until she went back to sorting through papers, but I hadn't backed away when she tried to touch me. I hated it when Sue tried any physical contact, even though I knew she was a good person. I was nervous around most of the new people I'd met in the last few weeks of foster care. Not Kate. There was something about her. I knew she was a friend. The thought made me smile._

"_What are you smiling about over there?"_

"_Rosie," I lied. Now she was the one smiling. "I get to see her tomorrow."_

_We went back to looking at houses again, hunched over the table like we were studying for finals or something. My shoulders were sore, and I'd had to switch to my glasses already because my eyes were so tired. I pulled them off to rub my eyes roughly with my fists. It seemed like we'd been at this for days, not just hours._

_I really didn't know what to look for in a house, beyond the basics. We needed two bedrooms because the judge had to see that I could provide her with her own space. It needed to be safe and clean, and close to the bus routes since we wouldn't be able to afford a car for awhile. I also knew I wanted Rosie to be in Austin ISD so she'd end up at the same high school as Tanya. Her life had been disrupted enough without having to move her away from her best friend. Most importantly, we needed to be far enough from home for Rosie to be safe. The last thing I wanted was for her to see our Mom around the neighborhood._

_Even more than all that, I wanted somewhere that looked like a fresh start. So many of the houses I'd looked at reminded me of our old house. I was worried the memories would be too much for Rosie, and I really wanted her to be able to put all of the bad stuff behind her once we were on our own. I didn't think I'd be able to deal with the reminders any better. _

_I didn't want to walk past the kitchen and see my mom standing at the stove that looked too much like ours. I didn't want to see my dad's shadow at the kitchen door, where he used to look back and smile at my mom one more time before he walked out to the garage to go to work. I didn't want to brush my teeth in a bathroom that reminded me of painful nights with blood on my hands, putting my first aid kit to good use. I was afraid a long, dark hallway would make me remember how I'd had to stand between my mom and my sister. I needed this house to be different. _

_I wanted somewhere we could make new memories together. I'd put a swing in the front yard, because she'd always wanted one and Mom would never let her. I'd let her paint her room pink or purple or whatever the hell she wanted to. We wouldn't have to share a room anymore, and she'd have her privacy like a normal little girl. She could have friends spend the night without worrying about what might happen with our mom. I'd never forget to put her good grades on the refrigerator or ask her about her day. I wouldn't need to put a lock on her closet, and she'd never have to be afraid to be in her own home again. She'd never be afraid of me. _

_I was going to make sure of it._

"_Hey! How about this one?" Kate interrupted, handing me a listing with a few pictures on it. "It's a two-bedroom just south of Zilker. It's in the school district you want and in your price range. It looks really cute."_

_It was a little yellow house, with a huge tree in the front yard. The perfect swing tree. The house looked bright and happy, and I could picture Rosie sitting on the front steps. _

"_It's perfect," I said._

"_I think so too," Kate agreed. "It's an old-fashioned Austin bungalow, built in the sixties. It looks like it's been well-maintained and updated, though, and that's a gorgeous old magnolia in the front yard. What do you think?"_

"_Can we go see it?"_

"_Let me make a few calls."_

_An hour later we were on our way to meet the realtor. Kate was driving, and I was digging my fingers into my thighs to keep them from drumming. Kate had already told me to knock it off twice. I wasn't sure what I was so nervous about, but I couldn't keep still. Then my foot started tapping, and Kate laughed before turning the radio up a little._

"_Deep breaths, Jasper," she shouted over the noise. "It's just a house."_

_But it wasn't just a house, it was our home. I knew as soon as we pulled up in front. The street was shaded and the neighbor kids were playing in their front yards. The tree in front was perfect, and I was already picturing the wooden swing I'd hang for her on the strongest branch I could see. I heard the screen door open and then slam shut, and the realtor, Ms. Kent walked out onto the front porch. We went up to meet her and I shook her hand, but Kate did all the talking. _

_Ms. Kent led us inside, and I tuned out a lot of what she and Kate were discussing. Floors and ceilings and crown molding – and I didn't really care. I wandered off on my own, and they didn't stop me. _

_I went to the kitchen first. I hesitated as I walked in, but there was no trace of my mother there. The appliances were new and shiny, and the walls were painted a light blue color. It looked nothing like our old kitchen. I smiled._

_I walked down a short, bright hallway that led to the bedrooms. Rosie's room was perfect. There were big windows and lots of good light, and I could picture her doing homework at a desk I'd put up against the windows. The walls were an ugly brown color, but Rosie and I would have fun painting together. I'd take her shopping for paint first thing. There was room for her to have a double bed instead of a twin, which I knew she would think was pretty cool. In foster care, your space is never really your own. Rosie slept in someone else's bed, in a stranger's house, and in a couple weeks someone new would be there in her place… and Rosie would be here. _

_I looked out her windows at the backyard, and it was huge and perfect. We could get a dog if she wanted one. We could do whatever she wanted. _

_I jogged back down the hallway to find Kate, and her face when she saw my smile said it all. She nodded, and I hugged her, and I knew I'd found Rosie and my new home._

"_When could we move in, Ms. Kent?" I asked._

"_Your lease would begin on the fifteenth, so you could start then."_

"_Perfect. I'll take it."_

"_Vicki?" Kate said. "We have a few special circumstances. Jasper is in foster care right now and won't be a legal adult until the nineteenth, so we're going to need to figure out a few things with the paperwork."_

"_That shouldn't be a problem. I spoke to the owner about the situation when you called me, and he's willing to be flexible given the circumstances. We can wait to sign on the nineteenth."_

"_Awesome," I said. "Thank you so much for your help, ma'am. I really appreciate you taking the time to show us the house. It's perfect for me and my sister."_

_She smiled and called me honey, and told me how sweet she thought I was for what I was doing. I couldn't keep the idiotic grin off my face. I asked Kate if I could borrow her cell phone while she and Ms. Kent finished up a few more details._

_I took it out to the front yard and sat down under the old magnolia tree. There was only one voice I needed to hear right then. _

_It rang three times._

"Hello?"

"_Hi, Mrs. Cullen, it's Jasper. Is she there?"_

"Of course, honey, let me run and get her."

_I waited impatiently, and I didn't bother to keep my fingers in check. I couldn't wipe the smile of my face. This was more than just a house for us. It was our new home, our fresh start, our future. It gave me new confidence that this was going to work out. This was the way our lives were supposed to be: me and Rosie, and our new little house in our new neighborhood. Far enough from our old life that we could forget about it._

"Jasper?"_ she answered. She sounded winded._

"_Hey, sweetie, where were you?"_

"I was playing outside. What's wrong? You don't usually call until later."

"_Nothing's wrong." I said, and I bet she could see my grin all the way from the Cullens'. "Everything is finally right."_

"What… what do you mean?"

"_I found us a house."_

"You did WHAT?"

"_A house. For you and me, Rosie-bee. Just you and me." _

"Are you serious?"

"_I'm very serious. Wait till you see it. It's perfect. Your room is big and sunny, and you and I are going to paint it whatever color you want." The line went quiet, and I wondered if I'd lost her. Then I heard her sniffles. "Hey, hey, what's wrong, sweetie? Don't be sad."_

"I'm not s-sad, I'm happy. I'm so h-happy, Jasper. Does this mean I can come home? W-with you? I miss you so much."

"_I'm working on it. You have your court date in about a week, and then mine."_

"What if the judge says no?"_ she whispered. _"What if I have to stay with the Cullens?"

_That had always been my worst fear, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I knew that wouldn't happen. I wouldn't let it._

"_Listen to me, Rosie. That's not going to happen. I won't let it. I'm going to make this work for us. I promise you that. You're not going home with anyone but me, because this is where you belong. I'm not going to let them take you away from me ever again. Do you hear me? Your home is with me. I want you to come home."_

"I want to come home, too,"_ she cried._

_That was all I needed to hear. _

"_No more tears. Things are going to be happy for us from now on. Tell Mrs. Cullen I'll be there tomorrow at three. Kate and I are bringing you to see the house, and then we'll go look at paint for your room."_

"I'll tell her. I love you, Jasper."

"_I love you, too."_

_I hung up and leaned back against the tree. Things were going to work out for us – they had to. I wouldn't break my promises to Rosie. I was going to bring her home, and soon._

_

* * *

_

**I know it's been quite awile, but thank you to everyone who's still with me out there. The story is coming to a close, and I've had a hard time with the last couple chapters. We're almost there. :)**

**Thank you so very much to Legna989 for pinch hitting as beta for this chapter, and to Lucette21 for continuing to be lovely and amazing. Justaskalice was a little busy this time but I love her anyway.**

**So… this is a little crazy, but someone over at A Different Forest thought that I should be a VIP author. They gave me my own cabin to play in and everything! The link is on my profile, so come say hello if you get a chance. I've started posting my stories over there as well.**

**Finally, someone really sweet nominated Underexposed for a Twilight All-Human Award for fanfiction with the most well-developed characters. Voting runs until September 13, and the link is on my profile if you're interested. **

**See you all again soon. :)**


	26. Wide Angle

"**The camera is a remarkable instrument. Saturate yourself with your subject, and the camera will all but take you by the hand and point the way."**

– **Margaret Bourke-White**

It's late on a Wednesday afternoon, and I'm alone. Jasper and Rosie are out to dinner and a movie on their own little date night, and I told them to go without me. They don't spend nearly as much time alone together as they used to. Even though they both insist they don't mind having me around, sometimes three really is a crowd. They were a pair long before Jasper and I were, and it's important to me that they don't drift apart. I don't want to be responsible for getting between them. She still idolizes her big brother the way a baby sister should, and it was hard to miss the excitement in her voice when he asked her to hang out, just the two of them. It's adorable, and it's that thought that keeps me from being lonely tonight.

Instead I decide to distract myself by cooking a nice dinner, studying for finals, and taking an extra-long bubble bath. I'm not often alone at my apartment anymore, and I can't shake the feeling that there's something missing here. It's _my_ space, but I see him everywhere. I see him on my couch, his feet propped up on my coffee table. I see him in my bed, stretched out diagonally to make room for his long, long legs. I see him in my bathtub, those long legs wrapped around me while he soaps up my back. I see him in the kitchen, stealing bites of whatever I'm cooking while I pretend not to notice.

He's a part of my life now – a part of everything. I miss him, even though I know I shouldn't. It's not a painful ache, but it's an ache all the same. It's bittersweet and unsettling. I remember the best parts of being with him, but the sting of his absence drains the memories until they're hollow.

I check the clock; it's still early enough to catch Charlie before he heads home from work. He's coming down for graduation next weekend, and we haven't really talked about his visit yet. I saw him a month ago, when Rosie and Jasper went home with me for Easter, but it seems like much longer than that. I miss him.

I pick up my phone and dial, smiling when he picks up on the second ring.

"_Chief Swan."_

"Hi, Daddy."

"_Hey there, honey. How's it going?"_

"Good. Really good. Just getting ready for next weekend. How's work?"

"_Oh you know… same old same old. Murders... home invasions... all in a day's work."_

"Umm… are you watching _Law and Order_ at the office?"

"_How'd you know?" _he says, chuckling. I can imagine the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the twitch of his mustache. I'm suddenly overwhelmed by how much I miss him. I sit, trying to soothe myself with an arm wrapped tightly around my waist. Missing Charlie used be a part of every day for me. I wonder if I'm a bad daughter for noticing it less often now that I have Jasper, or if it's just a part of growing up.

"Lucky guess. It sounds more exciting than your usual."

"_I'm an old man now, Bella. Traffic violations are about all the excitement I need these days."_

I laugh into the phone, but there's an edge to it. His words are genuine, and I know he means them. Maybe a long time ago he wanted more from his job. I'm sure when he was young – before I was born and my mother died – he thought differently about the risks he was willing to take. I've always wondered if he held back because he was afraid of leaving me alone if something happened to him. I won't lie; I've always appreciated that he made those choices with me in mind. I worry about him enough as it is, and things are pretty tame in his little suburban bubble. He's always seemed happy with small-town law enforcement, though. I don't know if he feels like he's sacrificed an exciting career for my sake, but if so, he's never admitted as much to me.

He clears his throat, and I remember I had a reason for calling.

"I actually just wanted to talk about your plans for coming down next weekend. I got us a reservation for dinner after graduation on Saturday. I figured you'll be getting in so late on Friday, I'll just have something at home for you. Is that okay?"

"_Actually, I took Friday off, so I'm going to drive down Thursday night if that's alright with you. I wanted to make it in time to go to your print show. It's Friday afternoon, right?"_

"It's at noon, but you don't have to do that. I thought you'd have to work."

"_There are a lot of things in this world I don't _have_ to do, Bella. But I can't think of a single thing that I wouldn't do for you. That includes taking an extra day off work so I can see my baby girl's work on display."_

"But I thought –"

"_It's done, honey. I've already made the arrangements. You're gonna hurt my feelings if you tell me I can't come."_

"No! I mean, of course you can. It'd mean a lot to me if you were there. I think it would mean a lot to Jasper, too."

"_Good, then it's settled. Now you'll just have to put up with your old man for an extra night."_

"Poor me," I deadpan. "I don't know how I'll ever survive."

"_You just tell that young man he's going to have to share you."_

I blush, laughing awkwardly. I wonder if my dad will be able to tell how often I _don't_ sleep at my apartment when he's here. God, I hope not.

"I'm sure Jasper won't mind. He'll probably be relieved to be rid of me for a few days."

"_I don't believe that for a minute,"_ he teases. _"Listen, I've gotta get back to work before Deputy Black catches me being lazy again. I'd never hear the end of it. I'll see you next week, honey."_

We say our goodbyes, and I'm grinning stupidly when I hang up the phone. I haven't let him take off work to come to a print show since my freshman year, and I didn't realize until just now how much I really want him to come. There are always families there, especially for the graduating seniors. We present our senior portfolios, which are truly the culmination of four years of work. You spend four years building the skills, the style, and the creative identity to put together a body of work you can be proud of. The graduation panel within the photo department reviews it, and you have to stand before them to defend your work… and then wait for them to decide if you're good enough. If you don't pass that portfolio review, you don't graduate. It's rare, but it happens, and you have to spend the next year reworking everything.

Jasper and I have both already been submitted our portfolios, even though I still haven't actually seen his, and we should have the panel's decision before the end of the weekend. Jasper insists his portfolio is a surprise, and he wants me to wait until the show to see it. I tease him for being a temperamental artist and go along with it. He seems really excited about the show, and I wonder if he's invited anyone other than Rosie. She's his only family.

Then again, she's really not, and I wonder if he realizes that.

He has a surprise for me, and I decide that turnabout is fair play. I want Jasper to know he's loved, and not just by me and Rosie. He has family, whether they're bound to him by blood or something even stronger. Because if I've learned anything from his mother, it's that sometimes blood isn't enough. Sometimes the will, loyalty, and love it takes to _make_ someone a part of your family is what's important – not the genes they carry that match yours. Jasper needs to understand that.

I pick up the phone and settle into the couch. I have some phone calls to make.

He answers on the third ring.

"Garrett? I have a favor to ask."

A week later, Jasper and I are sitting side-by-side in Maggie's office. He seems entirely at ease during our session today, with a smile on his lips and his arm wrapped lazily around my waist. His fingers dig into my hip just enough that I can't forget they're there. Maggie asks a question, and I feel his fingers flex against me. He answers, and they loosen slightly. I lean into his side, sliding my hand from the outside of his knee to the inside, and his fingers tighten enough to send a shiver over my skin. I smile to myself, enjoying the give and take we always share. He hasn't broken the stride of his conversation with Maggie, all the while carrying on a silent conversation with me.

"So last week I told you to pick three or four of your triggers to work on at home, and to re-evaluate the effect they have on you," Maggie says. "How did that go?"

"Pretty well overall, I'd say. Bella?" Jasper answers first, then turns to me.

"I think so, too. He did really well, actually. We tried working on the belt again, and the second time I tried to take it off he didn't even flinch. The first time was a little rough, but not quite as bad as New Year's."

"Yeah," he agrees, "it was definitely better the second time. I did have a pretty bad one the other day. It wasn't intentional, but when she was making tea…"

"The kettle whistled," I explain. "It was the kettle."

"And that was – what, the boiling water? Your chest?" Maggie asks, looking concerned.

"Yeah. The episode wasn't too bad, though. I think I came out of it pretty quickly."

"You did. Oh, and we read _Goodnight Moon_ last night, but that was still pretty difficult. He had – what was it, two episodes?"

"Three," Jasper says grimly, his arm tightening around me. "It took us hours to get all the way through the book without an episode, and even then… it wasn't easy."

"One of the episodes was pretty bad... one of the worst I've seen."

My chest tightens as I think about how hard it was to watch him go through that – how hard it was to help him come out of his episodes, each one worse than the last. Maggie wants him to work on pulling himself out without my help, but when they're that bad I can't just sit idly by. I finally convinced him to let it go for the time being, promising we'd try again another night. He's made it clear that _Goodnight Moon_ is one hurdle that's particularly important to him, and I know he won't give up until he's moved past it. I won't let him.

"I hadn't touched the book in years. I figured it'd be hard, but I wasn't really ready for that."

His body is tense beside mine, and I can feel his frustration, practically palpable on his skin and in the air between us. I tuck myself in closer to his side, and he relaxes slightly, his fingers curling more tightly over my hip.

"Hey, that's okay. The important thing is that you worked through it." Maggie's voice is calm, and I feel him loosen a little further at her reassurance. "This is all a process, Jasper. Don't forget that. It's going to take time, especially with the hot-button triggers that you haven't experienced as much. It's about gradual exposure – slowly teaching your brain to think differently than it's used to. Don't be discouraged. You're in control of these episodes. They aren't setbacks, they're progress."

He nods, still a little upset but visibly more at ease, and I decide to move on to another one of his successes.

"On Saturday, we went down to South Congress to get snow cones," I say. I smile at this one, remembering the heat in his voice when he told me this was one of the things he wants for himself. He wants to have a life full of simple pleasures, like cherry snow cones on a hot day. I told him it would happen.

"She got cherry," he says, grinning like a fool.

"He got lime again, but the cherry lips didn't seem to bother him at all this time," I tease. He seemed to enjoy them, in fact. I lick my bottom lip, and I can practically taste his lime-stained lips on mine.

"Not at all." Then he leans in to whisper just for me, "Delicious."

I elbow him gently in his ribs, and he laughs.

"Wonderful," Maggie says, and her expression matches her upbeat tone. I love that she seems to be so truly invested in his progress. "Jasper, we haven't talked about how you've been sleeping in awhile. What can you tell me?"

"I've been doing better lately," he answers, smiling at me briefly before turning to face her. "Especially when Bella's with me. I haven't had a nightmare in almost a month."

His arm tightens around me, and I turn until my cheek touches his shoulder and my nervous smile is partially hidden. I'm a little embarrassed that he's just announced how often I sleep over to his therapist. Our therapist, I guess, since we're in this together. At the same time I'm glad that he sleeps better when I'm with him. I always thought _those_ people were sad. Those people who can't sleep without a warm body against theirs every night. I wouldn't say I _can't_ sleep without Jasper beside me, but I sleep more soundly knowing he is. There's something to be said for that simple comfort – knowing you're not alone when you close your eyes at night, and knowing the same will be true when you wake. I'm getting used to it, and I really don't mind that I am.

"That's great, Jasper. What about the insomnia?"

He shifts uncomfortably, and I sit up straighter until I can see his expression. He looks embarrassed. We both know he's been better, but it's still an occasional problem. I still wake up some nights to find him lying awake beside me. Once or twice he's even tried to hide on the couch because he thinks his being awake disturbs me. He doesn't understand that the emptiness – the absence of him – disturbs me, the same way that knowing I've been sleeping peacefully beside him while he's upset disturbs me. I know he's thinking about the night last week when he came home silent and distant. I remember how we worked through it together, though, and I feel my cheeks warm as I picture exactly how the night ended. I watch as he notices my blush and then quickly deduces why it's there. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and the corner of his mouth curls upward. I fight the urge to kiss his smirk away.

"He's still having some problems with that, but it's not as often as it used to be," I say, his eyes still on mine in a very distracting way. I narrow mine in response and then turn to face Maggie again. She seems entertained by our silent communication but doesn't call attention to it.

"That's fantastic," she says, an amused smile still on her lips. "I'm glad you're making progress. Just keep up with the calming exercises we discussed, and those nights should become less and less frequent. How are things going with your mom?"

"Fine, I guess. We're meeting her again tomorrow night."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Good. Different. I feel more confident this time. I think it'll be fine."

I can't decide if he's really that confident, or if he's trying to convince himself he is. Before we can go further, the buzzer on her desk goes off, and it's time for us to leave. Maggie wishes us luck with Mrs. Whitlock and urges Jasper to call her if he needs to. The way she says it is comforting – less like an acknowledgement that he might really need her help and more of a promise of support, just in case. I can tell Jasper notices, too, by how relaxed he is. He shakes her hand and waits, grinning, while she gives me a small hug.

He takes my hand to lead me to the car, and I have to stifle a giggle at his cheery disposition. This Jasper beside me is a new man. He's light and confident, and you would never know that tomorrow, his whole world could fall to pieces all over again. He doesn't act like a man who's about to confront the source of all his pain and disappointment. He doesn't look like a man who's about to come face-to-face with the woman whose shortcomings ruined his childhood. I know he's thought about it, but something in him has changed. I know that this time, he's ready to see her.

In the car, his fingers tap out the rhythm of the music on the radio, and every now and then he turns to smile sweetly at me. I stare – I can't help it. I love him in every way, despite his sometimes mercurial moods, but I'm just so… proud, I think, of the way he's handling meeting her this time around.

"What are you staring at?" he asks, reaching out to twine his fingers with mine. We're at a stop sign, and he pulls my hand to rest with his on the gear shift. He turns back to the road, and we shift back into gear as he releases the clutch. I smile at the familiarity of the motion and the simplicity of the moment. Us, together, just being. It's so effortless sometimes.

"You, of course," I tease.

"Yeah, I think I noticed that much, thanks," he says, laughing lightly. "_Why_ are you staring at me? I'm not even wearing my glasses this time."

I punch him in the shoulder, and he winces dramatically.

"You're just… I don't know. You seem so happy."

He pulls over, and we shift into neutral before he turns off the engine. He keeps my hand in his, though, and his smile when he turns to me is somehow insecure. I think it's the way his eyes are questioning me, as if he's expecting me to laugh or run or maybe both.

"I _am_ happy, Bella."

"But something's different – I can tell. What changed?"

He turns my hand over, tracing a forefinger so lightly over the love line on my palm that my fingers start to close reflexively, responding to the tickle. He grins more widely but keeps his eyes on my hand, now running his finger over my life line and up until he reaches the scar on my forefinger. He brings my finger to his lips, kissing the raised skin he finds there. The softness of his touch gives me a chill I'll never complain of.

"I told you the other night, beautiful. You make me happy. All this with my mom… I think I finally realized it doesn't matter. I'm happy, and nothing she does to me now means anything. Or at least it doesn't have to mean _everything_. No matter what she does, I still have you. I still have Rosie. That's all I need. She's my past, but you and Rosie – you girls are everything."

"It's about time," I say, laughing quietly to hide that my voice is thick with emotion.

"I'm a little slow, I know. Forgive me?" His grin is shy and hopeful, and at this moment I'd forgive him anything.

"Nothing to forgive."

He kisses my knuckles, and then my palm – his lips slow and lingering. He kisses my wrist, and before he can tease me any more I kiss his sweet, soft lips. He smiles at my impatience. I kiss him until he forgets his smile and I forget I was trying to kiss it away.

And then I kiss him again.

–***–*–**

_**April 3, 2000 (Jasper is 12, Rosie is 7)**_

_It was late, and Rosie and I were getting ready for bed. Mom had gone to bed hours before, so I helped Rosie wash her hair and made sure she brushed her teeth. She picked out her favorite princess pajamas and climbed into bed while I turned out the light. I was hoping she'd go to bed without talking too much. I was worried she'd start asking questions again._

"_Jasper? Do you think Mommy forgot it's my birthday tomorrow?"_

"_Of course she didn't forget. She probably has a big surprise for you after school."_

_The truth was, I didn't know. We'd bought presents for Rosie a month ago, but Mom was having a really bad week. She hadn't said anything about Rosie's birthday and I was worried she'd forgotten. Rosie would be so upset if she did. At the same time, I was afraid to bring it up with Mom. She was in such a bad mood, and I didn't want to set her off about anything._

"_Jasper? She forgot about Halloween. Remember?"_

_She was right. Last year Mom forgot all about costume day at school, even though I told her about it like ten times. I helped Rosie dress up like Sleeping Beauty since she already had the dress. I even made her a gold crown with pink diamonds on it out of construction paper. She thought that was pretty awesome. I was the only kid in my grade without a costume. Peter tried to get me to wear his cowboy hat so we could share, but he wouldn't really have been a cowboy without the hat so I said no. One or two of the mean kids made fun of me. I didn't care. It wasn't a big deal to me, but Rosie was really upset about it._

"_That's different. Your birthday is way more important than a stupid Halloween costume. She'd never forget your birthday."_

"_If you say so."_

"_I do say so. And I'm always right."_

_She laughed, and I smiled. _

"_Goodnight, Jasper."_

"_Night, Rosie-bee."_

_I didn't fall asleep right away. I had a birthday party to plan._

_The next morning, I woke up early. Sure enough, Mom was still asleep. She probably wouldn't wake up in time to take us to school, so I shut her door quietly and snuck back down the hallway. I got all ready for school and then woke Rosie up, leaving her to get dressed while I made her a special breakfast._

_Chocolate chip pancakes were her favorite, and I put candles on top like a birthday cake. She squealed when she came into the kitchen and saw it. She practically tackled me she hugged me so hard. Making Rosie happy was the easiest thing in the whole world._

"_Happy birthday, Rosie!" _

_She grinned and looked around the room. Her face fell a little bit before she asked, "Where's Mommy?"_

"_Mommy's sick, sweetie. She's going to sleep awhile longer to rest up for your party tonight."_

"_My party?" she asked. I knew that would distract her._

"_Yeah! With a cake and everything. Now come on and eat your breakfast so we can get to school on time."_

_It was a nice day, so we rode our bikes to her school. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and promised to pick her up right on time so we'd be home for her party. She was so excited, she barely said goodbye before she ran off to find Tanya. _

_I watched until she found her and they ran inside, holding hands. Maybe if Mom was up later I'd have her call and ask Mrs. Denali if Tanya could come over for cake, too._

_I took off on my bike, but instead of going to school, I headed to the store. I had a long list of things to buy in my back pocket, and in my front pocket was the money I'd borrowed from my mom's wallet. She probably wouldn't even notice. I took money for groceries and stuff sometimes, and even though she was in one of her moods this week, once she realized she'd forgotten Rosie's birthday, she would be really upset. She wouldn't care I'd taken the money. She'd just be happy I'd made sure Rosie was taken care of. _

_I didn't make it back from the store until almost lunchtime, and my handlebars were so heavy with bags that it was hard to turn them. I parked my bike and carried everything into the kitchen so I could get to work._

_I made her a strawberry cake with white frosting because that was her favorite. It wasn't made from scratch like if Mom had made it – just out of a box – but I figured Rosie would love it just the same. I even wrote her name on it with a tube of purple icing. It was all a little lopsided, and I wasn't sure how that happened. I'd never really baked a cake before. I guessed it looked extra-homemade that way, at least._

_I made some lemonade from one of those frozen tubes and cut up strawberries to mix in. Rosie _really _loved strawberries. They turned the whole thing pink, too, which I knew she'd like. _

_I set up the pink and purple paper plates and cups and everything I'd gotten at the store. I even had pink and purple candles for her cake. She was going to be so excited. I stood on a chair to hang pink streamers and a Happy Birthday sign around the kitchen. I even blew up some balloons, but they looked lame since they didn't have helium in them. I just piled them all up on the floor so it looked like they weren't supposed to be flying. _

_I heard the phone ring, but I didn't answer it. That was when I heard her in her room. She was talking on the phone to whoever it was, and after she hung up she came running out and slammed her door behind her. I was pretty sure I was about to be in trouble._

"_Jasper Lee Whitlock! Where are you?"_

_Oh shit. Make that a lot of trouble._

"_I'm right here, Mom," I said. I ran out of the kitchen to meet her in the hallway._

"_What the hell is going on here? Why aren't you at school?" _

"_I'm sorry, I –"_

"_That was your vice principal on the phone. I had to lie and tell him you were sick."_

_She was so close to me I could smell the alcohol on her breath. It made me wrinkle my nose and cough a little._

"_Mom, I'm really sorry –"_

"_Since when do you skip school, Jasper? What were you thinking?"_

"_Mom, listen!" I shouted. That was a mistake._

"_Don't you _dare_ raise your voice to me, young man." Her voice was low and hateful, and her eyes were angry. She had her finger pointed in my face, so close I had to take a step back._

_She pulled her arm back like she was about to hit me, and I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my cheek. Nothing happened, so after a few seconds I carefully opened one eye. She was walking past me into the kitchen. I ran to cut her off, standing in front of her with my arms wide. I didn't know what she would do when she saw the party I'd set up. I never knew what she'd do when she was like this._

"_Mom, wait! I can explain –"_

"_What… what is all this?" she asked. She had her arms wrapped tight across her chest and was playing with her necklace with one hand. "Jasper?"_

"_It's… a party."_

"_A party." _

_She was looking around the room like she'd walked into an alternate universe or something. It didn't look like she had any idea where she was or what was going on. She looked so confused, and I saw tears start falling down her cheeks. _

"_Today's Rosie's birthday," I said quietly. I didn't want to upset her any more._

"_Rosie's… oh. Oh my god." _

_She covered her face with her hands and started crying harder – so hard her whole body was shaking. I moved close enough to hug her, and she hugged me right back as hard as she could. She sank down until we were both sitting on the ground. She kept crying and crying into my shoulder. I could feel my shirt getting wet from her tears, but I just sat there and let her cry. She'd feel better when she was done._

"_Shh it's okay, Mom. She doesn't know you forgot. I told her you were sick."_

"_I c-can't believe I f-forgot. I'm s-so sorry."_

"_I know you are. I made her a cake and everything. She never has to know."_

"_I'm such a h-horrible... I p-promise, Jasper. This is it. I'll throw it all out. It'll be d-different."_

_I knew she was lying. I wanted to believe her, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell her that, though, so instead I just hugged her tighter._

"_It's okay, Mom. I'm going to wrap her presents. Why don't you go take a nap?"_

_She nodded and sat up, wiping her eyes. I walked her back into her room and helped her into bed. She made me promise I'd wake her up when I left so she could shower while I picked up Rosie. I kissed her on the forehead before I went back to the kitchen to finish up._

_I pulled Rosie's presents out of their hiding places. It took me about two hours to wrap the three of them, and they looked pretty bad. I just added extra ribbon and hoped she wouldn't notice. Once I was done with that, it was time to leave to pick her up. I got Mom out of bed and made sure she was getting in the shower before I left. I told her to call Mrs. Denali about Tanya coming, too. It looked like Garrett was home, too, so I wrote him a note and slipped it in his mail slot on the way out. Rosie would be so excited to have him there._

_I got to school a few minutes early and sat out by the bike racks to wait for Rosie. She came running out with Tanya, and was talking a mile a minute before she even made it all the way to me. _

"_Jasper! My teacher brought chocolate chip cookies just for my birthday. She said she made them special for me. She must like me a lot because she didn't bring cookies for Benjamin's birthday or for Emily's either."_

"_I bet she does like you a lot, sweetie."_

"_And Jasper, I got to pass the cookies out to everyone and we ate them on pink napkins! Sam made fun of me for liking pink but I told him to mind his own business."_

"_That's my girl. Come on; I see Mrs. Denali."_

_We got our bikes and walked Tanya to her car. Her mom said they'd see us at five for birthday cake, and Rosie and I headed home._

_We walked in, and Mom and Garrett were waiting in the kitchen for us. Mom looked a million times better now that she'd cleaned up and rested. I hoped she'd keep it together for the party so Rosie wouldn't notice anything wrong. It would break her little heart, and I think Mom knew that._

"_Happy Birthday, Rosie!" Mom shouted._

"_Happy Birthday, short cake." Garrett held out his arms for a hug, and Rosie took a running start before almost tackling him. _

_I caught the way my mom's face fell while she watched them together. I knew hurt her to see how much Rosie loved Garrett, but in a lot of ways that was her fault. We could depend on Garrett. We could never depend on her. _

_The party was fun, and no one but me knew anything was wrong. No one could tell Mom had been drunk and angry just a couple hours before. No one knew she'd almost forgotten her only daughter's birthday. Rosie and Tanya had a lot of fun eating cake and having a tea party with their pink lemonade. Garrett even sat on the floor with them and showed them how to stick their pinky fingers up in the air while they drank. Rosie went to her room to get him a crown to wear because she said he was good at playing princesses. I snuck a picture when he wasn't looking. I was going to have to tease him about that one for a long time._

_Rosie was practically falling asleep sitting up by the time everyone went home after dinner. Mom helped me carry her to her bed, even though I really didn't need the help. I let her do it anyway. She went back into the kitchen to clean up while I helped Rosie into her pajamas. I tucked her in bed and kissed her forehead, then went to help Mom. _

_It was really uncomfortable with her in the kitchen. I knew what had happened, and she knew what had happened, but she seemed to want to pretend nothing happened. Neither of us said anything, and my skin was all prickly like it was cold or something. It felt wrong and a little creepy. I excused myself as fast as I could and went back to get in bed. Mom didn't turn around from doing dishes at the sink, but when I walked out of the kitchen, I could've sworn I heard her whisper, "Thank you."_

_It looked like Rosie was asleep already, so I kept quiet while I got ready for bed. I set my alarm for school in the morning and climbed into bed._

_The day could've been a total disaster, but it wasn't. Rosie would've been heartbroken if she'd known Mom forgot her birthday, but she didn't figure anything out. She had a nice birthday party with her best friend and her favorite kind of cake – even if the cake was lopsided. She played games with Garrett and laughed and opened presents from everyone. She had a great day. _

_The house was so quiet, and I knew without looking at my clock that it must've been really late. I heard my mom heading down the hallway to her room. I heard the wind banging the tree outside against my window. I heard a bird singing somewhere, and I wondered what kinds of birds were up so late at night. I even thought heard my mom, crying all alone in her room._

_What I wasn't expecting to hear was Rosie._

"_Jasper?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Thank you."_

_She was so quiet I could barely hear her. I wasn't sure if she was really awake or not._

"_Umm… what for?"_

"_For my birthday party. Today was my happiest birthday ever."_

_She knew. My throat felt like it was being squeezed tight by something, and for a minute I couldn't answer her. It was the best birthday ever… or at least, the best birthday she could remember. She couldn't remember birthdays with Dad like I could. She probably couldn't even remember how special Mom used to make our birthdays. I didn't care. If Rosie was happy, so was I. _

"_You're welcome."_

"_I love you, Jasper."_

"_I love you too, Rosie-bee. 'Night."_

_She knew, but she was still okay. _

_It didn't matter what my mom did, because I could make Rosie happy on my own. We didn't need her. I could take care of my sister and make sure nothing hurt her. I could give her happy days even when I was having rotten ones. She'd never have to go through what I went through with my mom. I'd make sure of it. I'd never forget her birthdays or to make sure she had a costume for Halloween. I wouldn't forget to pick her up from school or that strawberry cake with white frosting was her favorite. _

_I didn't need my mom for any of that. I just needed Rosie. I'd make sure I was there for her, even when our mom wasn't. As long as I had Rosie, I'd be okay._

_

* * *

_

**What kind of birthday cake would you ask Jasper to make for you?**

**Hello again! Sorry for the delay, and thank you to everyone who's still with me. I might be biased, but I'm pretty sure I have the most amazing readers ever. :)**

**So here's the deal... We have two chapters left, plus a short epilogue. Everything is written so the updates should be coming about once a week now until we're done. I'm also going to start posting the outtakes, so if you don't have me on author alert you might want to keep an eye out. It's almost the end, guys. Hang in there. :)**

**Huge thanks to my lovely betas, justaskalice and Lucette21. They're the best a girl could ask for. Special thanks to Legna989 and Oscar519 for helping with me with the flashback in this chapter. I owe them bigtime. **


	27. Resolution

"**He made me suddenly realize that photographs could reach eternity through the moment."**

– **Henri Cartier-Bresson**

We sit in the same coffee shop where we met her before, waiting once again. It's weeks later, but everything seems so much the same right now. My nerves are clawing a hole in my stomach, and I can't for the life of me understand why we're sitting at the very same table in the very same coffee shop. I stare at the same deep scratch in the surface of the table, and the same air conditioning vent is blowing just a little too hard down the back of my neck, making me shiver. I'm even sitting in the same chair. It's just off-balance enough that I wobble a little every time I change my posture. And I've lost track of how often I've fidgeted; I just can't seem to settle.

It's like the worst kind of déjà vu, except I'm the only one who seems to notice. I know it's not _my_ mother we're waiting for. It's not my life hanging in the balance, but it really is. Jasper and Rosie are everything to me. They're part of my life, part of my family, and part of my future. This affects them and so it affects me, too.

I breathe deeply, wondering if this is even just a fraction of what Jasper goes through with his triggers. The atmosphere here is enough to set me on edge and make me remember. I try to relax and concentrate on what's different, because so much has changed.

This time Rosie sits with us. If she's at all nervous she's doing a good job of hiding it, and I have no doubt that she's ready to face her mother. She hasn't seen her in five long years. Five years of struggling to build a new life without fear and anxiety. Five years of trying to forget the feel of her mother's hand across her cheek. Five years of wondering why she wasn't reason enough for her mother to turn her life around. Her wait is almost over, and here she sits, her head held high, waiting to face her past. She jokes and laughs with her brother like it's just any other day, and I envy the strength I see in her right now. I know she's going to be fine. Better than fine.

This time Jasper's confidence didn't drain away with every step he took toward our seats. If this is just a show of strength for Rosie's benefit, he's fooling me as well. I like to think he's just finally ready for this. Instead of a bundle of nervous energy, he is the picture of cool confidence. His fingers lie still and silent, one arm slung lazily around the back of Rosie's chair, his other hand resting gently on my thigh. I leave one hand on his, keeping him in check as his thumb brushes suggestively across my skin. He's giving me goose bumps, but judging by the smirk he keeps sending my way, I hardly think he cares. I take his hand in both of mine, distracting him and myself by brushing my fingers lightly over his palm.

I take another deep breath, reminding myself that this is all going to be okay. Jasper and Rosie have made their peace with the situation, regardless of what today brings to the table. Mrs. Whitlock can't hurt them anymore. Forgiveness is their gift to give, not hers to demand. She can offer her story and hope for a little understanding, but she can't touch them, and they finally understand that. No matter what happens today, Jasper and Rosie will walk out of here with their whole lives ahead of them – no burdens or regrets. Jasper brings my palm to his lips, softly, and I feel a sense of calm settle over me.

Even though I'm not watching the door, I know the minute she walks in. He leans forward slightly and twines his fingers with mine. I watch him carefully, and to anyone else he's still relaxed as can be. No one else would notice the beginnings of a crease between his brows, or the way that the absence of even the smallest smile on his face means he's uncomfortable. They can't feel the way his hand tightens around mine almost imperceptibly. I pull his hand to my lap and wrap it in both of mine, trying to silently comfort him. He turns to offer me an easy grin before leaning in to whisper, "Don't you worry, Beautiful. I got this." He winks when he pulls away, and just like that I'm smiling.

Mrs. Whitlock walks slowly toward us, and it's just like that day all over again. She looks so beautiful. She's wearing Rosie's smile and the same blue sundress as last time. I wonder if Jasper asked her to wear it, to test himself. She pauses a few feet away from our table, hesitating, until Rosie waves her over. Mrs. Whitlock silently asks Jasper's permission, and she looks so unsure. So frightened. I turn to him again, worried for a moment that I might lose him. That I might find him hiding behind cloudy eyes, breathing too fast and trying to claw his way back to reality. Instead I see him nod encouragingly. His eyes are soft and clear, and I watch as the edge of his smile starts to curl up. He knows he can do this.

She takes her place across the table, and for a moment the tension and uncertainty hang all around us like a fog. I can almost taste it on my tongue. Each breath I draw feels heavy and awkward. The bustle of the crowded café fades away, and my ears ring with unnatural silence. No one speaks, but we're all watching. Waiting.

When I look at her, all I see is him. I see him in her eyes, in the way they match his cool shade of gray-blue today. They burn just as brightly as his – with emotion or strength, or both, I'm not really sure. They're like an icy fire I'm drawn to but too afraid to touch. I see him in the way she holds her head up, even though she's clearly insecure about the situation. I see him in her

hands, because those are the hands that gave him his scars – the scars he's finally learned to wear with reluctant honor instead of shame. I wonder how he's able to sit so close to those hands; they frighten me, even though I haven't felt their sting. His hand in mine is strong but so gentle, and I tighten my grip on it, knowing how lucky I am that it will never cause pain to anyone.

Then he smiles, and with that simple gesture the air clears.

"Hi, Jasper. Rosalie." Her voice wavers slightly, and I almost feel sorry for her. Her eyes are watery and her smile timid.

"Hi … Mom," Rosie whispers.

"Hi, Mom," Jasper says, ducking his head. I swear that boy never forgets his manners, even in situations like this. I giggle despite myself, and Mrs. Whitlock turns and offers me her hand, smiling.

I hesitate for a moment, but it's long enough for her to notice. Her face falls just slightly, and I smile apologetically and reach out to her. "Hello, Mrs. Whitlock."

"Hello, Bella. It's lovely to see you again. Please, just Mary Ella."

"Mary Ella." I nod.

The table falls silent once more, and everyone trades nervous glances as eyes dart all around the table. I feel the fog start creeping back around us, but it's gone as soon as Jasper speaks.

"So… I'm glad you came today. I guess you have a few things you want to talk about."

"I do," she says. She sits up a little straighter, steepling her hands loosely on the tabletop in front of her as she chews on her lip.

He starts to reach out for her but seems to rethink the action, instead clenching and unclenching his hand in a fist beneath the table. I run my thumbs gently over the hand I'm still clinging to. I need to feel him and I know he needs to feel me. He relaxes, and his fist falls limply to his knee.

"Go on," he encourages.

"I just… there's so much I want to say. I guess most importantly, thank you for being here. For even caring to listen. Lord knows I don't deserve this much… from either of you." She pauses to wipe away a few tears which are threatening to spill, then takes a deep breath before continuing. "There's no excuse for what happened. None. I'll regret the way I treated you for the rest of my life. Nothing I can do will ever make things right, and I understand that.

"I just need for you both to understand one thing. I never –," she takes a jagged breath, "it was never a matter of not loving you enough. I don't expect you to believe me or understand. I love you both so much, and I always have. You're the best thing I ever did, and I guess at the same time the worst thing I did, because of what I did to you. I just… I was broken. I don't know how else to describe it. When he – when your father died, I felt like I died with him. I let him take care of me too much. I depended on him to breathe life into me, because when I was alone I felt like I wasn't really alive. After he died… I could never seem to catch a breath. Each one I took hurt. I hurt. I didn't know what to do."

"So you drank," Jasper says, his voice flat.

"So I drank. I drank until I couldn't remember my own name, much less that I was alone."

"But you weren't alone," Rosie whispers thickly. Jasper reaches out to wrap his arm around her again, pulling her gently into his side. "You could've had us. You didn't have to push us away. _You _left _us_ alone."

"I know," she answers, crying. "I know that now."

"Why wouldn't you get help?" Jasper asks. I can tell he's walking the line between quiet control and anger. "I tried. I tried so many times, and you pushed me away. I _loved_ you. I wanted you to get better."

The table falls silent, and the stifling weight of unanswered questions hangs around us. Mary Ella stares at her hands where they still rest loosely on the table in front of her. She's gnawing on her lip again, and watching her makes me chew mine in sympathy. She slowly brings one hand up to finger the diamond necklace she wears. It's the same one Jasper talks about. It's the one she wears in all his memories – in all his nightmares.

"Jasper?" I ask quietly. He turns to me, and I can't decipher his expression. He looks so torn. He looks like he's scared and angry and so many things all at once. "It's okay, Jasper. We can go if you want to."

He shakes his head, stubborn and determined as ever. When he turns back to his mother, there's a fire in his voice and his jawline is tense and angry.

"Listen," he snaps, "if you're not going to answer, I don't even know what we're doing trying to–"

"I didn't want to admit I needed help," she cries, all mania and desperation. "I didn't want to be weak. I didn't want to have to admit to your father that I'd failed him – that I'd failed you kids. I thought I could get better if I just tried hard enough. I was a good mom once, and I kept telling myself I could turn it around. I kept telling myself that _this time_ would be the last time. _This time _I would be strong enough. I could be so good you'd forget how bad I really was. I thought – I thought a lot of things that weren't true. This time turned into next time, and I kept right on failing you."

"Yeah, and how is _this time_ any different?" Jasper says. The cool challenge in his voice chills me; I can't imagine the effect it has on her. "What's changed now? You don't understand what it was like. You were all we had left, and you threw us away over and over again. How are we ever supposed to trust you again? Be close to you again?"

"Why would we even want to try?" Rosie murmurs.

Mary Ella looks stricken, but she had to have known this was a possibility. You just can't do the things she did and expect the road back to be easy.

"I don't deserve your trust or your forgiveness, and maybe I never will," she whispers. "After that day in the library… when I left… You were right, Jasper, with everything you said. I've been a selfish woman. I came to see you because I missed you. I didn't think about what you needed or what was best for you. I just didn't want to be alone anymore. Everything was empty without you. But after seeing you that day – after you sent me away – God, I'd never felt so alone. I'd pushed everyone away. You didn't need me in your life. You didn't even _want_ me there. And for the first time, I realized I only had myself to blame.

"So I dumped out every bottle. I packed up all your father's belongings and donated them, except for a few special things he'd want you to have. I cleaned the house until my hands were raw. I tried to erase all the bad memories we had there, but it wasn't enough. Everywhere I looked I saw my mistakes. I ended up selling it and moving to a new neighborhood so I could start over. I found a new group and started going to meetings again. I turned my life around.

"I know I've made a lot of empty promises, and I'm not going to pretend you have any reason to believe me now. All I can offer you is time. I want to spend every day showing you that I'm better. That _you_ made me better. That you are worth everything to me, and always have been, even when I was too weak to show you. It might take the rest of my life, but there's nothing as important to me as fixing this.

"All I need from you is time, if you'll give it to me."

Jasper turns to Rosie, and they're wrapped up in silent conversation. Rosie looks away and stares at her hands, twisted together in her lap, as he leans over to press a kiss against her temple. He turns back to his mother, and I can't tell what he's thinking by only his profile. Judging by the hard set of his jaw, he's all strength and confidence. I wish I could see his eyes. As she watches him, her brow furrows and she begins to drum her fingers in a disjointed percussion on the table. I smile at the familiar motion from an unfamiliar set of hands. I ache because of what she must have seen in his face.

"Mom… I… We…" he says, trailing off gruffly. "I think time's a good start," he finishes. "Let's just take this slowly and see where it goes. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that today makes up for anything you did, because nothing ever will. I'm not gonna pretend it's not hard to look at you right now, or that I don't remember what you've put us through. I remember everything. You have no idea how much I remember."

"I know you do, baby, and –"

"Please just listen," he begs, his tone clipped. One of his hands pulls roughly through his hair, and the other tightens around mine. She snaps her mouth shut as he continues. "I'm glad that you're getting better. Really, I am. I always wanted that for you, even when you were… when things were rough. I've never hated you. I hated what you became. I hated what you did to me and what you did to Rosie. But I always loved my mom and I always wanted her back. I always hoped that she was still in there somewhere.

"I'm not gonna promise you anything. It's gonna take us a long time to be okay with being around you at all, but I can't live like this anymore. I don't want to have to live with regrets like you do. I don't want to have to explain why you aren't part of the family to my kids. I want to be happy, and if that means trying to forgive you, then that's what I'll do. I want to move on from this. But you need to be patient and let Rosie and I control this. If she gets uncomfortable, or if you mess up, this is over. Permanently. I won't be lied to anymore."

"No lies," she agrees.

"This isn't about what you want or what you think you need from us. This is about what Rosie and I want for ourselves, and above all that's to be happy. You're not going to mess with that. We've been just fine without you, and we would be again."

"I understand." Her voice cracks and her lip quivers, but I see the smile in her watery eyes. "This means so much to me. Thank you, Jasper."

"Don't make me a fool," he answers. His voice is low – almost threatening – but so, so vulnerable. "I can't… I won't. Not again."

She shakes her head insistently, her body trembling with silent sobs. She's gripping her necklace like it's the last shred of her sanity, and I wonder briefly how she hasn't broken the chain. She's barely let go of it this whole time. Her other hand still drums erratically on the table, and I notice Jasper staring at it in the otherwise awkward silence. I can't imagine what he's thinking, knowing what those hands are capable of. They're deceptively small and delicate-looking, but he looks at them like they're anything but. He looks at them with ghosts in his eyes, and I can't help but wonder what he sees.

Jasper reaches out, so very slowly at first, and I see the hesitation in every bit of his movement. He draws back slightly just before he makes contact with her, clenching his hand into a tight fist. She stills. His other hand tightens around mine, and I pull our tangle of fingers into my lap, trying my best to silently reassure him. He's not alone here. He can do this. I love him.

He takes a deep breath, reaching out once more until his hand finally rests on hers. I watch a tear drift slowly down her cheek as his thumb brushes back and forth over her skin. My own eyes blur, and I hear Rosie sniffle.

I never knew that simple touches could mean so much until I met Jasper. With him, every touch is a tiny piece of himself he's trusting you with. He's trusting you not to hurt him and not to disappoint him. He's trusting you with everything. Each one shows you he cares, shows you he knows you care, too. Every simple brush of skin-on-skin is something anyone else might take for granted, but he never will. For someone who was denied a loving touch for so many years, every single one is sacred. I see it in his eyes every time he touches me, be it soft and gentle or in the heat of passion. I see it when I touch him, as if everything good in the world is wrapped up in that moment. As I watch him reach out and touch her – touch those hands he should shy away from – I know this is real. I know he's ready to move on, to forgive. I know he's ready to live again.

I can't contain my tears anymore, so I turn to hide them in his shoulder, letting the softness of his worn t-shirt absorb all the evidence. I've never cried while smiling before, but I guess there's a first time for everything.

"I saved all these for the two of you," she says, pulling a thick stack of letters tied together with an aged satin ribbon out of her purse. "I wrote to you a lot while you were away, but I never sent them. I'd like it if you would read them. It might help you understand the last few years a little better."

Rosie pulls them into her lap, drawing a staggering breath as she does so. She promises quietly that she'll read them, and Jasper nods in agreement.

When all the tears have been wiped away, we say our awkward goodbyes. They've laid the groundwork today, but they have a long way to go before things are normal again, and they might never be. It doesn't matter. The smile on Jasper's face when we walk out is enough. The light in Rosie's eyes is enough. You can tell just by the ease in their step that a weight has been lifted.

Seeing their mother again was never about what she could add to their lives. It was about letting go of all the pain and all the doubts she instilled in them. It was about understanding why. Why she hurt them, deserted them, and didn't care enough about them. Why she still cared. Why she came back. It doesn't matter if they never see her again, or if she starts drinking tomorrow. They have one another, and they have their answers. I think they both understand that's all they ever needed.

Before I know it, it's Friday – the day of the print show. Charlie wants to surprise Jasper with his early arrival, so Rosie helped us out by asking Jasper if they could head over to the school together. I'm supposed to meet them there, and even though he's pretending to be grumpy about that, the look on his face when she asked him was priceless. I doubt he's ever been able to say no to that girl.

I'm nervous and excited about today. I want to do well. I want Jasper to do well. I want to find out what his big secret is all about and why he's kept it from me. I want to see the look on his face when he sees my surprise.

There's also something so thrilling and nerve-wracking about having my work on display. I'm proud of my senior portfolio, and I'm so glad that Charlie's here to see it like this instead of after I take it home. There's something so much more dramatic about the atmosphere at a print show. Maybe it's the smell in the air. It smells like mount board and photo paper and hard work, with a touch of something chemical thrown in for good measure. Maybe it's the perfect way the lights are set up to show off everyone's work. It's dark in all the right places. Maybe it's the buzz in the air that only happens when you pack so many people in, all of them just as nervous and excited as you are. The emotion in the room is always palpable.

There's also that tiny voice I hear, growing louder the closer we get to school, telling me how great it would be to see my work on one of the easels reserved for best in show. I tell the voice to be quiet, that I'll be happy either way. The voice doesn't listen. The voice is insistent.

Charlie reaches over to put his hand on my knee, stilling its nervous movements. I didn't even realize I was doing it.

"You want to talk about what has you so jumpy?" he asks. "Maybe _before_ you tap a hole through my floorboard?"

"I just want everything to be perfect today."

"It doesn't need to be perfect, Bells. It just needs to be right. And it will be. You'll see."

I flip my hand until I'm holding his, and it's huge and warm around mine. For a moment I feel like a child again. Sometimes that's okay, though, because this feeling – this one where I'm safe and warm and loved – is entirely worth it. Charlie will always know how to take care of me, and I'll never stop wanting him to. He's never been a man of many words, but the few he offers are always the ones I need.

"Thanks, Daddy."

"Anytime, honey. Now take a deep breath. We're almost there."

I find Jasper as soon as I walk in. I can tell he's nervous, and his eyes dart frantically around the room until they fall on me. He smiles, then, and it lights up his whole face. He shakes Charlie's hand and welcomes him. He tells him how much he appreciates his being here. Charlie waves him off, embarrassed, and says he's going to go sneak up on Rosie. As soon as he leaves, Jasper's arms are around me and his lips are on mine. His kiss is quick and needy, and I can taste his anxiousness. I lace my fingers through his hair, tugging gently and slowing our kiss. By the time we part, we're both smiling and he seems to have relaxed. Boys are so easy.

"It'll be fine," I whisper.

"I know it will. You're here now."

"I'm here now, too, so the party can officially start," booms a voice from behind us. I recognize that voice. "And keep it clean, kids. My future daughter doesn't need any kissing lessons… now or ever."

"Garrett?" Jasper seems happy, but confused.

"In the flesh," Garrett answers. He throws his arm around an already noticeably pregnant Kate. "You didn't think we'd miss this, did you?"

As he says it, the rest of Jasper's extended family start filtering in through the open doorway behind Garrett. I've never met most of them, but I feel like I know them already.

I know I heard tears in Esme Cullen's voice when she told me how delighted she and her husband would be to come today, to support Jasper and Rosie. I know that Sue Clearwater promised me a hug and the recipe for her macaroni and cheese casserole that Jasper used to love so much. Leah and Seth are eager to see Jasper again. Seth jumped on the phone to warn me all about Jasper's snoring, and I stammered my way through the rest of the conversation because I already know how very well he imitates a chainsaw. Peter and his mother are both coming, and Mrs. Kerby must be the one walking in now with the plate of brownies. She says they're Jasper's favorite.

"I… Bella? Did you do this?" Jasper stutters.

"Are you mad?"

"Am I… why would I be mad?

"I wasn't sure if this would be okay, but I wanted to show you… you needed to see that we love you. All of us. You're not alone, Jasper. You've never been alone."

He doesn't speak, but he still manages to say it all. His eyes assure me that this is more than okay. His arms pull me tight to his chest to tell me how much he loves me. His deep, calming breaths express how overwhelmed he is. His lips on my neck whisper how much this means to him. His body speaks to mine, as always, and I soak up every word.

He leads me around, introducing me to everyone who's helped him down this long road. They've each had a hand in making him the man he is today, and they mean the world to me because of that. Peter hugs me like I'm his own sister, then punches Jasper in the arm for not introducing me sooner. Mrs. Kerby tells me how beautiful I am, and how beautiful Jasper and I are together. Sue's hug is fierce and loving and just so motherly; any other day I might have ached for my own mother, but right now I'm too overwhelmed with happiness to feel the loss. She reaches out hesitantly to cup Jasper's cheek in her palm, and after the tiniest of hesitations, he lets her. Esme and Carlisle each kiss my forehead, and when Jasper reaches out to hug her, I see trails of tears drifting down her cheeks. She whispers something in his ear, and whatever it is makes him smile and hug her tighter. Carlisle beams at both of them before pulling Jasper into a very manly half-hug of his own. They understand, like I do, just how much his touch means. Jasper's ears color, and he ducks his head bashfully at their reaction.

Eventually everyone wanders off to enjoy the show, and it's just us.

He pulls me toward a display, and I know this is what I've been waiting for. His portfolio. He smiles timidly; I want to kiss him until his smile is real and wide and just for me. But then his hands are on my shoulders and he's spinning me to face the photographs in front of us. I try to turn around, but he holds me steady, moving in behind me until his chest is against my back and I can feel his breath hot against my ear. He wraps his arms gently around my waist, holding me to him.

"What do you see, beautiful?"

It's a series of seven landscapes and cityscapes, so familiar I don't even hesitate before I answer.

"It's Austin," I whisper.

He draws an unsteady breath, so close I feel its tickle as my hair moves with it, against my neck. His words are so quiet – meant only for me. "What else?"

The images are all double exposures – scenes of Austin I recognize because they're all places Jasper loves. The hills, the water, the trees, his library… it's entitled "Home," and it's pretty clear why. I scan through the photos again, trying to figure out what the base images are overlaid with. The double exposures are faint but there, adding texture and movement to the otherwise static scenes. As I look more closely, I realize it's so much more than that.

_It's me._

"It's you," he murmurs, and I realize I spoke aloud.

The first image is the most gorgeous hill country sunset I've ever seen, but as I look more closely, I recognize the twisted sheets covering the curve of my hip. I'm in bed, sleeping, my dark hair tangled against the pillows and my back naked down to my waist. It's barely there, but I see it, and my silhouette fits seamlessly with the scene he's used. The curves of the countryside and the curves of my body are beautiful and gentle, and the sky paints us both in shades of pink and purple and orange. I've never really seen my body on paper in this way, and I feel a flush warm my skin.

The next one is the peach orchard – our peach orchard. It's the photo Jasper took just before we set out to walk amongst the trees, and the light is gorgeous and warm from the setting sun. The shadows are long and soft, and I notice the faintest outline of a woman twirling down a pathway between the trees. Her hair whips around her, long and wild, and her white skirt is full with movement. She looks like angel and a child: carefree and spirited, her arms thrown wide. I remember the day I spun like that for him, but I don't remember his camera. It was the first day in March that was warm enough for a skirt, and we stayed outside until darkness came, dragging in a chill with it. He twirled me in the warmth of the afternoon until I was dizzy and breathless with giggles. He pulled me to him, and I kissed him until he was breathless, too. Then I spun around on my own until I was so dizzy, I fell into his arms. It's still one of the best days I've ever spent with him. Somewhere in there he caught that moment on film, and now I'm watching myself dance through the peach trees.

Next is a dark and somehow eerie shot of his library stacks. The sun streams warmly through the window at the end of the aisle, backlighting a silhouette I recognize as my own. I watch the way my hand reaches out, as if to ghost along the spines of books lining the shelves. I can practically feel the volumes beneath my fingertips and smell the paper and mustiness I know I'd find there. I was never in the original image, but I look like I was always meant to be there – like I was always meant to be a part of that room, that scene, his library… his life.

In another I see an ancient weeping willow we found down by the lake. The wind whips her vines into a frenzy, and when I look closer I see the curve of my neck against her trunk and my hair tangled amongst her vines. It's a profile shot, and my head is tilted up toward the sky. My face is hidden in all the chaos, but I know it's me. I don't remember when the picture of me was taken, but it's as if the same wind was moving through both of us. I do remember the day we found that tree. The wind was fierce and the sky was about to split apart into storms. Frighteningly dark thunderclouds had rolled in in a matter of minutes, but we stayed to take the picture anyway. We ended up drenched, laughing as we ran back to his car and to safety. It was exhilarating, and I get a chill just from looking at the evidence of that day.

Then I'm at the top of Mount Bonnell. I recognize the image as one of the many he took that morning when we hiked up there before the sun had risen. The memory of the way he kissed me against his car before we left makes my lips tingle, and I bring my fingers up to touch them. It was another perfect day. He's overlaid a picture of me on the swing from our study break at the park so long ago. I was trying to show him how I jumped out of my swing when I was little, giving myself the scar above my eyebrow. I didn't fall this time, and I remember laughing when he called me graceful. He snapped the picture at the moment I let go, and now I look like I'm about to soar over the edge of the cliff.

Next is a shot from late at night, underneath the Congress Street Bridge. It's a panorama, and he dragged the shutter for almost a full minute to pick up all the ambient light. The water looks as smooth as satin, and I feel the urge to reach out and touch it. With it is another picture of myself I don't recognize. The skin of my back is blue in the moonlight, and its smoothness blends with the water as if they were meant to be one image. I can barely make out the curve of my spine and the dip of my lower back. The rest of me fades away into darkness. I wonder when he took it, blushing as I think of all the possibilities. I've been in his bed and he in mine, more times than I can count. I've so often woken up to see Jasper watching me, telling me how beautiful I am in the soft light, in nothing but my skin and his sheets and his arms. Those are the best kinds of moments.

The last is something much simpler. It's his house, his home. The one he may as well have built from the ground up for all the blood, sweat and tears it took him to get there. The sky above is heavy with a storm, and lightning flickers in brilliant forks across the sky. Instead of just me, this time it's us. I'm wrapped in his arms, my head resting on his chest as we sway slowly in a dance. Our feet float inches above the wood of the front porch, and we look as if we could dance right up through the clouds. The storm rages on above us and all around us, but we look entirely at peace. My chest constricts because I _know _that feeling, and he's captured it perfectly. It's the way I feel every time he touches me, every time he holds me close. It feels like home.

I keep staring, in awe of how seamlessly he's joined the two sets of images together. It's brilliant. It's his life, his city, his world, but I'm everywhere. I'm wrapped up in every bit of it as if I belong there – as if I've always belonged there. A warmth moves through my body and over my skin as I think about his intentions with such a display. It's public, for everyone in our class and in our lives to see. My father is standing a few feet away, looking at the very same images. And Rosie… I feel the tears start to well when I realize she's known all along. She told me I would love his surprise, and I do. It speaks to every one of my insecurities, twisting them until they're strengths. He's managed to show me wordlessly how he sees me, and he's made me see myself clearly for the first time. His pictures are worth so much more than words ever could be. I see my beauty, my strength, and how important I am to him. I see how much he wants me in his life. I see how perfectly I fit there. I try to draw a deep breath, but it's jagged and I choke on the weight of my emotion.

"Bella?" he asks, and I can hear the uncertainty in his voice. He starts to loosen his hold on me, but I don't allow it. I let my head fall back against his chest and pull his arms tight around me again.

"It's me?"

"It's all you, beautiful. It's always been you."

"I love you," I answer, my voice cracked and rough.

"I love you, Bella."

The rest of the show is a blur. I don't win best in show, but I feel like I've won more than that. I feel like I've won everything that I need and more. All that matters is that he never stops touching me. He never walks away. Whether it's his hand in mine, his fingers playing on my hip, on my neck, or on the small of my back, he never leaves my side. And I never leave his.

Charlie makes his way over, clapping Jasper roughly on the back and complimenting him on his work. He has always been the best father he could be to me. Seeing him taking care of Rosie and Jasper in the little ways he does just reinforces that. He treats them as his own.

"I'm proud of you, son," he mumbles gruffly. Jasper stiffens slightly before smiling and returning the gesture. And if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure the Chief's eyes are a little damp. He kisses my temple, and Jasper has to let go of me when he pulls me in for a hug. "You too, Bells. I'm so proud of both of you."

We leave the show together after the crowds start to dissipate. I can't get over what a success today has been. Jasper's smile is worth all the trouble it was to round up all his loved ones, and I'm not sure if I'll forget the way I felt seeing his portfolio for the first time. I can still feel the warmth on my cheeks.

Jasper's hand is warm around mine while Rosie walks arm-in-arm with Charlie. They're about ten steps in front of Jasper and me – close enough that Rosie can spy on us over her shoulder, but far enough away that I can't hear their conspiratorial whispers. They're quite the pair, and I love how easy this is: walking down the street like a family that never knew any differently.

Jasper pulls me closer by our linked hands so he can kiss my temple. It's a simple gesture, but it's the little touches like these – practically reflexes because he doesn't even seem conscious of them anymore – that mean the most to me. He used to shy away from any kind of touch, but he doesn't shy away from me. Not anymore. I'm grinning like a fool, but our quiet moment passes too soon when Rosie interrupts, letting out a long, dramatic "awww." Charlie tugs on her ponytail and laughs when she squeals. He tells her to keep her eyes to herself. She calls him an old man and pokes him in the ribs until he cries mercy, and we all laugh. Jasper tells her to respect her elders, and Charlie calls him a traitor. I laugh so hard I can't see through my tears.

Everything just feels so… right. Like this is the way it was always supposed to be. All Jasper has ever wanted is to have his family back. To feel like he was at home somewhere. This moment – right here – this is everything. This is perfection. This is life, as good as it gets. _This_ is home.

–*–*–

_**July 19, 2005 (Jasper is 18, Rosie is 12)**_

_I practically skipped to my car once I left the tattoo parlor. My button-down shirt was a little too tight around my bicep to be comfortable, and I felt the tattoo underneath sting a little, even though it was well-covered. I didn't care. I had a date._

_Rosie was waiting for me at the Cullens' house, and I couldn't be late._

_Everything was ready, thanks to Garrett. I couldn't believe that after everything I'd put him through, he was so willing to be my friend again – no questions asked. But that was just Garrett, I guessed. He was loyal and strong, and I was pretty sure he was the best friend I'd ever have. We'd spent most of the night before moving all my belongings into the new house. It wasn't a lot, but with the new furniture I'd bought, it was home. Now I just had to go get my girl._

_When I pulled up to their house, Rosie was waiting on the front steps with the Cullens. As soon as I stopped the car, she was running toward me. I jumped out and ran to meet her, scooping her up in my arms. She squealed, and I turned us both around in circles until we were too dizzy to stand up straight. I didn't care if I looked like a dork. Rosie was laughing, Esme was laughing, Carlisle was laughing, and I couldn't wipe the stupid grin off my face. _

_Rosie chattered excitedly to Esme about our house and all our plans, even though I was pretty sure she'd probably talked her ear off about it before. Esme was patient with her, though, and listened as if she'd never heard any of it before. She even offered to come help us get settled in, and Rosie promised she would call her._

_Carlisle helped me load all of Rosie's things into the back of my car. After I closed the trunk behind the last load, he pulled me aside. _

"_Listen, Jasper… I just want you to know how proud Esme and I are of you. Of both of you. It takes a lot of determination and courage to go through what you have, and to still be the stand-up young man I see before me."_

"_Uh, thank you, sir. It's all because of her, though," I said, gesturing toward my sister. "Anyone in my shoes would've done the same."_

"_Don't do that. Don't lessen what you've accomplished. It's truly admirable, Jasper. You should be proud of yourself."_

_I ducked my head, embarrassed, and I could feel my ears burning. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot."_

"_I hope you'll accept this… Esme and I have grown quite attached to Rosalie, and we wanted to do something to help."_

_He reached out to pass me a white envelope, and I hesitated. I wasn't sure what he was offering, but I didn't want to accept._

"_I don't know, Dr. Cullen…"_

"_Please, it's Carlisle. And please just take it. You don't have to open it now, or ever, but my wife won't let me back in the house tonight if I don't make sure you accept this. It's very important to her – to both of us. Please."_

"_Thank you, Carlisle," I said, taking the envelope and folding it up to fit in my pocket. "That really means a lot to us. Rosie's very attached to you both, too, for what it's worth. I know if this hadn't worked out… I mean if it hadn't worked out for me… well… I always knew if I couldn't get her back, she would've been happy here with you guys. You would've made her happy."_

"_We would have tried. This is for the best, though. I'm sure of it. Good luck, son."_

_He reached out his hand for me to shake, a sad smile on his face. Instead of shaking his hand, I pulled him closer for a hug. He froze at first, shocked by the contact, I guessed. I didn't often initiate anything like that, and he and Esme had seemed to understand that and never pushed me. After a minute, he relaxed and hugged me back, clapping a hand on my shoulder blade roughly. _

_When we backed away, it was a little awkward. I shuffled my feet, and he tried to pretend like his eyes weren't a little wet. I pretended not to notice. I cleared my throat and gestured back to the girls, and he nodded and followed me back over to them._

"_Are you ready?" Rosie asked, her excitement obvious._

"_I'm ready, Rosie-bee. Are you?" _

"_I'm _so _ready."_

_She hugged Carlisle and Esme goodbye, and Esme was a mess. Even Rosie cried a little. I felt a little guilty, taking her away when they had grown to love her so much so quickly. We needed this, though. The Cullens would always be a part of our lives. Rosie wouldn't want to just walk away. But it was time for Rosie and me to stand on our own – to be a family together. We needed the chance to start our lives. To start over._

_I turned to Esme to say goodbye, but before I could say the words, she had pulled me into the tightest hug of my life. My instinct was to tense up – to panic – but I didn't. I took a deep breath and then wrapped my arms around her._

"_You be good to each other," she whispered._

"_Yes ma'am."_

"_You're a good man, Jasper. You deserve a good life."_

_I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded and let her hug me until she was ready to let go. When she did, her eyes were red and she had tears falling down her cheeks. Carlisle came up beside her, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe her tears away for her. She smiled, and he leaned in to kiss her. It was sweet, but it made me a little uncomfortable. It reminded me of my parents… of how my dad always had to take care of my mom. _

_There was something different, though. It wasn't just Carlisle taking care of her, it was them taking care of each other. She kissed his cheek and held on tight to his hand, because he needed her, too. I wished my parents had figured that out: how to love each other without using each other. I wished my mom had learned how to function without him holding her up. I hoped that one day I would find someone that loved me the right way. It'd probably never happen, and I didn't know if I'd ever be ready for it anyway, but I still wanted it._

_We said our goodbyes, and then Rosie and I got in the car to go home._

_Rosie talked the whole way home. She was already planning what we should make for dinner our first night on our own, what movie we should watch, and how soon Tanya should come over for a slumber party. We stopped for groceries, and I let her pick out everything she wanted even though it was a little over budget. It was a special day – I'd let her have her fun. _

_When we pulled up to the house, we both got really quiet. We sat in the driveway for awhile, just staring. Eventually I snapped out of it. We had groceries that were going to get hot in the car if we didn't get with it. _

_Rosie helped me carry the groceries in, and then I left her to put everything away while I carried her things to her room. I already had her bed and desk set up, but I unpacked a few of her personal things for her, just to make it look more like home. When I turned around, she was standing in the doorway, watching me. She looked like she was about to cry._

"_Hey, hey, don't cry, sweetie," I said. I was starting to panic. This was all wrong. She was supposed to be happy. "If you don't like it, we can find something else."_

"_No, it's not that," she cried. "I love it, Jasper. I'm just so happy. We're finally here and it's really a home. It's our home. It's perfect."_

_I hugged her close and shushed her, just like I used to all those nights when we were hiding from our mom. Only this time they were happy tears, and she wasn't scared or hurt. This time we had everything in the world to look forward to and nothing to hide from._

"_Umm… I got you a birthday present, Jasper," she said, sniffling. _

_She went over to one of her bags and pulled out a box wrapped with paper and a ribbon. I reached out to grab it, but she took my hand instead. She led me out to the front porch and sat down on the steps. Once I was sitting next to her, she handed over the box. I smiled down at it, and then at her. In all of the worry and excitement, I'd sort of forgotten that it was my birthday. _

_I knew the date, of course, and that it was important – but only because of what my birthday meant for us. My birthday was the finish line at the end of our rotten luck. It was the day I'd been waiting for for so long, because everything would be over. We'd be on our own – just me and Rosie. I hadn't even thought about celebrating it for any other reason. _

"_You didn't have to –"_

"_Just shut up and open it," she said, rolling her eyes. _

_I unwrapped the box carefully. I didn't have any idea what could be inside, but the fact that she did that for me… it meant a lot. I pulled a bundle wrapped in tissue paper out of the box, turning it over in my hands pensively. She started whining for me to get on with it, so I did. I tore the paper apart and laughed at her, telling her to be patient. She stuck her tongue out at me. _

_When all the paper was torn away, I looked down at the gift I held in my hands. It was a photo of me and my dad, from when I was about five. I had no idea where she'd found it because I had never seen it before. I was sitting on his lap and we were both laughing. I couldn't remember what had been so funny, but I remembered what that was like – to laugh with him. To be happy. _

_I wanted to feel that way again. _

_Then she handed me three rolls of black and white film for my camera. My dad's camera. I hadn't touched the thing since we left home. I hadn't wanted to. That camera brought back so many memories. Some good, some bad, but they were all painful. I hadn't realized until that moment that I wanted to. I really fucking wanted to. I loved that camera, I loved my dad, and I loved taking pictures. I wanted to get my life back, and maybe that was the first step._

"_Rosie, this is… thank you."_

"_I think it's time to be happy again."_

"_I know."_

"_We're going to be all right, Jasper."_

"_How can you be sure?"_

"_Because," she said, smiling. "I know you."_

_I opened my arms, and she leaned in against my chest so I could hug her. She was right. We would be all right – more than, even. I would make sure of it._

_For a while I wasn't sure if we'd ever make it to that point. I didn't think we'd ever be sitting there on our own front porch, with nothing to worry about but taking care of each other. It had taken us almost ten years and it was definitely a battle, but we were finally there. We were finally home. We had nothing ahead of us but possibilities, and for once in my life, I couldn't wait to see tomorrow had in store._

_

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**Thank you so much for reading. Judging by your reviews, some of you have been looking forward to a few of the big events in this chapter for a long time, and I really hope it lived up to your expectations. Drop me a line and let me know how you feel. :)**

**Thank you so much to Legna989 and Lucette212 for beta'ing for me. They're amazing and so good to me. I made them both cry, and Lucy actually requested that this chapter be posted with a tissue warning and an "emergency Gatorade in case of dehydration" warning. If you did cry, I'll pass along the emergency supplies. ;)**

**I've started posting the outtakes as well, so head over to my profile and check those out if you're interested.**

**One chapter to go, and then the epilogue… who's going to snuggle with me when it's over? I'm definitely going to need it.**


	28. Balance

"**Photography is nothing – it's life that interests me."**

– **Henri Cartier-Bresson**

My eyelids flutter open and closed, open and closed, but my sight is too blurry and I'm not sure where I am. I can't decide if I'm awake or dreaming, and I don't want to worry about figuring it out; I kind of like whatever in-between world I'm in right now. I close my eyes and nothing changes. I don't disappear into dreams – only darkness. I'm still here, there, somewhere.

Wherever I am, strong arms hold me tight and warm breath tickles my neck. A solid body presses against my back, and dreaming or not I know it's Jasper. Jasper's body behind mine, hard and warm and perfect. Jasper's arms around me, his chin against my shoulder while his breath whispers through my hair. I smile, knowing that it doesn't matter if I'm dreaming because I'll wake to this either way. For this perfect moment, life is quiet and easy.

I open my eyes again, and this time I know I'm awake. It's light outside, but barely so, and the early morning sun filters softly through the curtains. The house is silent as the grave, and only the bird that lives in the little oak tree outside Jasper's window is awake. It sounds like it might be a mockingbird, or maybe even a nightingale. My mom would have known. Charlie says she loved all sorts of creatures, but especially birds. He jokes that it's because she was so carefree, and when I was little I used to dream that she'd turned into a bird and flown away.

Charlie says she knew each bird by song and not just by sight, and sometimes I imagine her lying in bed with me on early mornings like this one, teaching me. Or maybe we would've taken a blanket out to the backyard and tried to lie still enough to become part of the earth. He says they used to sit quietly together out on their little porch swing at night, listening to the birds sing while Charlie rubbed her swollen feet. The old wood and chains would creak beneath them like porch swings do, and Renee would take his hand and put it on her belly so he could feel me kicking. He says I got the hiccups every night around that time. They'd laugh softly and whisper about me, wondering if I'd hiccup every night as they rocked me to sleep.

But even as I try to imagine this, I can't see it. I can't see _her._ I've never been able to. To me, she's emulsion on paper and echoes of Charlie's loving memories. I've never seen her in three dimensions, and even when I dream of her she's soft around the edges. She's always just out of focus, just out of reach.

I've never seen the sway of her hips when she walks or heard the smile in her voice when she tells my dad she loves him. It used to frustrate me so much, and when I was little I'd stare at myself in the mirror – at my nose, my eyes, and my pale, pale skin – and try to see her. I'd squint until my edges blurred, making my reflection shimmer darkly in front of me until I might have been looking at anyone. But when I opened my eyes, I was still me. I'd squeeze them shut as tight as I could. I'd think of her photographs and everything Charlie had told me about her. I'd try to picture her hugging me, kissing me, brushing my hair. I'd close my eyes tighter until they burned, desperately trying to see her – to see something. All I could see were stars.

It's taken me a long time to be okay with that – to be okay with knowing her only through photographs and someone else's memories. Because even though she'll never be real to me in that way, she's still a part of me, and I can finally recognize that. I've always been so desperate to see bits and pieces of _her_, I've overlooked the _me_ those pieces have built. She's a part of me, but she doesn't define me. The loss of her doesn't define me. Growing up without her doesn't define me.

I've carried the guilt of her death with me for as long as I can remember. Every time we celebrated my birthday, I wondered what he had to celebrate. My birth wasn't the beginning of their adventure. It wasn't the missing piece of the puzzle, or the ticket to the happily ever after they'd sat on that porch swing talking about. It was the end. Charlie went into the hospital nervous but excited, with the love of his life holding his hand. He walked out a changed man, with one very tiny, wrinkled fist wrapped around his thumb. It's taken me twenty-two years and innumerable tears to understand that that was always enough for him. In a perfect world, he would have had us both, but his world was perfect enough with just me.

It's taken seeing just how far Jasper's mom fell to show me just how much Charlie cared. It's taken seeing Jasper fight to build a life for Rosie to understand that some things are worth fighting for, and that Charlie has always fought for me. It's taken seeing how tragedy can rip a family to pieces for me to understand the strength it takes to keep one together. It's taken Jasper loving me the way he does for me to realize that I deserve that love. It's taken watching him rise above all the destruction in his past for me to understand that my past doesn't have to define me either.

Somewhere along the way, I've let the words of comfort I've always offered Jasper heal me as well.I don't search for myself in the paper-bound features of a mother I'll never know, or even in my father for that matter. I see pieces of them when I look in the mirror, but those pieces are parts of _me._

I have her slightly crooked nose, her rich brown eyes, and her lips, but my smile is all Charlie. My eyebrow quirks just so when I look at him like he's crazy, and his is always a mirror image, quirking right back at me. We wrinkle our noses the same way when we hear something we don't like, and a little crease forms between our eyebrows. I owe my traitor skin – my blush – to her. Charlie's voice gets gruff when he tells me about her soft white complexion and the way he used to love making her blush, like it was a game between them. A game he used to play with me when I was little. A game Jasper likes to play with me now. A game I'll always pretend to hate, but secretly love.

That's not all I see, though, and it's not all Jasper sees. I have a single dimple, in my left cheek, and no one knows where it came from. It's mine alone. Charlie's never been a fidgeter, and he swears Renee wasn't either, so my toe-tapping isn't genetics. Then there are my scars. They cover my skin like the best kind of connect-the-dots, and only Jasper knows which path to take. He's the only one who's taken the time to cherish every one of them and every inch of me. He's the only one I've wanted to share all my weaknesses with. And that's really what it's about, I've decided. I'm not built out of my nose, the temperamental shades of my skin, or the way that I smile. I'm a jumbled mess of secrets, stories, and hidden pains. I'm happy days and sad days, and days when I just want to see tomorrow. And I want all of my tomorrows to be with him.

I want to tell him my secrets and let him kiss away my pain. It's not a matter of ceasing to exist without him, because I know I could survive if I had to. It's a matter of choosing to share a life with him. I'm not afraid of ending up like his mother, because I won't let myself go there. I know I'm too strong for that. I'm not afraid of ending up like Charlie, surviving but never moving on, because I refuse to live in fear. If there's anything Jasper and I need to appreciate, it's that life is precious. I don't intend to waste ours.

As if he can sense my train of thought, Jasper groans quietly in his sleep. His arms tighten around me, pulling me back against his chest. I feel his warm breath across my neck as he exhales. When I feel him waking up, I smile, humming contentedly as I shift against him in response. His hands come to life first, and his embrace starts to shift from innocence to purpose. Next, one of his long legs wraps itself around and between mine. I shiver at all the new sensations and reach behind myself to twine my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer still. Finally, I feel his lips press against my shoulder. They're hot and soft and wonderful. He leaves slow kisses across my skin, trailing a path up my shoulder and along my neck. His lips linger at the base of my neck; I can barely draw a breath.

His touch makes my heart beat faster, and this – this is how I want to wake up every morning. Every morning until the day I die, I want Jasper beside me, against me, and all around me. I want his greedy hands to leave me breathless as they try to pull me closer than the last time, because close is never close enough. I want his lips on mine and on every other inch of me. I want a reason to smile before I've even opened my eyes to a new day.

His hand slips down between my thighs, and I gasp, letting my head fall back against him. I hear him chuckle darkly into my ear and I turn, silencing his lips with my own. His hands are relentless, and even though the angle is awkward, his lips never leave mine. He swallows each of my sighs and steals every whimper. He drowns all my sounds in his own until he brings me over the edge, and then all either of us hears is his name from my lips.

His hands are gentler now but they don't stop. He pouts when I push him away, but then I'm above him and there's that grin of his that's so dangerous. It's that grin that can level me where I stand. It can bring me to my knees, bring me to his arms, bring my lips to his. It's that grin that's so irresistible. The one that tells me he thinks I'm irresistible. He's still smiling when I kiss him, and then we're smiling together, lips-on-lips.

His hands start at my calves and move slowly up my legs. They don't miss the ticklish spot behind my knees that makes me jump, and I think it's on purpose, judging by the appreciative sounds he makes deep in his chest when I move against him. I splay my hands across his chest, and they absorb the sound vibrations. I can feel every sound, every breath – everything, and it's so intense this way. Then his fingers slide up the backs of my thighs, so slowly, so tantalizingly, and then over the curves of my ass. He finally rests his hands on my hips – they're strong and I keep whispering to him to pull me closer.

He obliges, with that devastating grin still taunting me. I lean forward so he can slide into me, and then I'm lost. I can't think or speak. All that matters is this – us. All I can feel is him, everywhere. I feel his hands on me, digging into my skin in a way that perfectly toes the line between pain and pleasure. All I hear is the way he chants my name, the sound so guttural that I'm not sure I'm meant to hear him. _Bella… Bella… beautiful Bella. _ I lean in to bite at his chin, his jaw, his neck. _Oh, Bella._ I hear him gasp beneath me when my lips find the cigarette burn on his neck. _Oh God, Bella. _My fingers find the burns on his chest, and I drag my nails across, so gently they barely make contact. _Fuck. Bella. _His hands grip me tighter; his eyes find mine.

He looks at me like I'm the only thing he sees. He touches me like my skin was made just for his. When he kisses me, his lips tell mine they're the only lips he needs. I feel the beat of his heart against my chest and the murmur of his breath over my skin. I hear his love for me in every sound he makes, I see it in his eyes, and I feel it in every brush of skin-on-skin. There's nothing but this – us – and I'm drowning in the best way possible.

He's flawed – we both are. His scars cover his skin like a maze of pain and heartbreak, but I know his secrets as well as he knows mine. I know him. I know exactly how to kiss him and touch him to make him forget every bit of it. I know that when we're together like this, nothing else matters. I know that we'll figure out the rest in time.

I lose track of everything else in his touch, his warm body against mine. I vaguely register the sound of his alarm going off before I hear it shatter against the wall, and then I laugh until his kiss silences me. His hands are everywhere and in all the right places, and when I come undone I collapse against him. I can barely catch my breath before his movements grow rough and desperate, and then it's _Bella… Bella… oh fuck, Bella _until we both have jelly-limbs and racing hearts. His arms are dead weight around me, his breath is hot against my neck, and I love it.

For the longest time it's just us in the relative silence – deep breaths and rustling sheets, satisfied sighs and soft kisses. It's a lazy morning, with nowhere to go and no one to see. Rosie's spending the weekend at Tanya's to celebrate the end of the school year, but Jasper and I are spending the weekend right here, hopefully.

"Mmm, Bella," Jasper murmurs. With my cheek against his chest, his words become vibrations against me. It's the most wonderful tickle imaginable.

"Good morning," I say, not even attempting to stifle my giggles.

"Hell of a morning," he agrees. His quiet laughter shakes us both. "What do you want for breakfast?"

I rest my chin on my folded arms across his chest, and now I can see him. "You."

"You already had me," he teases, but his eyes are hungry with want. I sit up, teasing right back, and his eyes darken.

"Then how about pancakes?"

"Pancakes it is. Then how about a walk?"

"A walk sounds perfect."

He slides a hand from my hip up to my breast, and back down again. "So do you."

I kiss his chin. "You're sweet."

And there's that grin again.

I kiss him to wipe that dangerous smirk off his face. He's adorable and self-confident, and I love him. I love the way his lips fit perfectly against mine. They're soft but somehow still strong and demanding. Before we make it much farther past kissing, he sneaks away to make breakfast. I swat at his ass as he walks away, and he swears he'll pay me back for that later. I blush, hoping he will.

After pancakes, we get dressed and walk to the park by his house. This place has so many memories of happy days and swinging high, the wind in my hair and Jasper by my side. I run toward the swings and he chases, and I don't make it very far before he has me by the waist. I laugh until I can't breathe. I wish every day could be this perfect and carefree.

"Are you running from me?" I'd think he were offended if his voice didn't carry that edge of teasing. It always gives him away.

"Are you chasing?"

"I'm always chasing you, beautiful."

I turn until I can kiss his lips and twine my fingers into his hair. Our kiss is deep and slow and it makes my spine tingle in anticipation.

"I'm not running away," I whisper.

"Good."

I squeal when he lifts me up over his shoulder. He carries me to the swings, and before I can protest he's pushing me higher and higher. His hands are warm and solid against my back, and every time they touch me, I feel it all the way through to my bones. When I can't take it anymore, I let go, flying through the air and landing clumsily in the gravel. Before I can fall, he's at my side. Then I'm kissing him again and again and again, my arms wrapped around his neck and his holding me against him. He's so tall that my feet swing almost a foot off the ground. He laughs, lips against my cheek, and whispers that we should go home before we get carried away. We take the long way home.

We decide to go back to being lazy, so we curl up on the couch and pop in a movie. I let him pick what to watch, so it's something horrible of course. Instead of watching, I'm lying with my head in his lap as he runs his fingers through my hair. It's soothing and wonderful, and I close my eyes to enjoy it more. It's like when you're alone in the dark and every sound is magnified to make up for the lack of sight, only this is so much better. He twists long sections around his fingers and into curls, then slowly lets them go. It's an absent-minded gesture, I think, because he's still laughing along with the movie as he does it. Every time he laughs it makes my whole body shake, and then I laugh too. I'm sure he thinks it's because of the horrible movie.

I don't notice when the movie's over. It's suddenly peaceful and silent, and the television screen is glowing blue in the darkening room. I don't know when it started getting late, but it is. And he's still playing with my hair.

"Jasper?" His pauses his movements for a moment, but then resumes.

"Did I tell you I talked to Charlie before he left?" he asks. I can feel the hesitation in his movements, hear it in his voice. "He came by on his way out of town."

He talks to Charlie a lot, but this was a week ago, now. I wonder why he hasn't mentioned it. "What about?"

"About you and me. About our future."

I freeze. They talk sports, fishing, and father-son nothingness. They talk cars, grilling, and how to fix the garbage disposal. They talk responsibility and Rosie, and how much Charlie loves being a father. They've talked about so much, but this is different. I want to know what was said and why. I want to know what my dad was thinking, the look on his face, and the exact twitches of his mustache while they spoke.

I sit up, lifting one leg until I'm astride his lap, my hands on his chest. If we're going to talk about this, I want to see his face. I want my hands right here where I can touch him, feel him.

"What did he say?"

"I asked him about your mom. He said she was it for him, and he's okay with that."

"He's never gotten over her."

"He's never wanted to."

"I know. I just… poor Charlie."

My heart aches for him, for what he's lost, for what he's been through. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for him to start over, to try to love someone again, even if it'll never be quite the same as with her.

"Don't feel sorry for him. There won't be another her. Not for Charlie. He doesn't want that. He doesn't think it would be fair to try to be with someone new, because he'd always be wishing she were your mom."

"I know. I just worry about him, all alone."

"You shouldn't." He brushes his thumb across my cheek, even though I'm not crying. It's still soothing, and I smile just a little.

"I know."

"I – I asked him what it was like."

"What what was like?"

"That kind of love. Where it's all-consuming, and you don't want to let it go, no matter what."

"Oh." I feel dumb, but I don't know how to respond. I don't know what he's thinking. I don't know where this is going.

"It's dangerous… loving someone like that," he says. He's dancing around something, and I'm not sure what it is or why. "The way he loves her and my parents loved each other. The way I love you. It's scary."

My fingers have been drawing idle patterns on his shirt, but I still them. My whole body stills. I stare at my pale fingers against the deep blue of his shirt, too frightened to look up. Too frightened to watch his face as I ask him this question.

"And… are you afraid?"

He tilts my chin up, placing a gentle kiss on my lips before he whispers, "Not anymore."

We smile, lip-to-lip.

"Why not?"

He kisses me again.

"Because you're worth it. It's all worth it. He asked me if I love you that much… if I'd always love you that much." His eyes are earnest and bright, and I feel like I can read his deepest secrets as I sit here staring into them. "I told him there's no question. I've spent so much time thinking about how things could go wrong, like with our parents. I don't want to worry about that anymore."

"Me neither. I don't want to hide from this," I say, placing my hand over his heart to show him what I mean. I can feel it beating beneath my touch, and its frenzied rhythm matches my own right now. Mine must have a hummingbird's wings; it's fluttering around so frantically inside my chest that it's almost hard to breathe.

"Me neither. I'm not gonna miss out on life because I'm afraid of how much I want it. I don't want to look back and regret not having the courage to do this right."

"So don't."

He slides a hand along my neck, until it's just beneath my ear – hot against my skin– and his fingers are tangled in my hair.

"I want you, Bella." He pulls me forward so he can kiss me, soft and sweet. I kiss him back.

"I want you, too."

"I need you, Bella."

His hands find my hips and hold me tight to him, as if there's the slightest chance I'm going somewhere right now. He's so strong, so determined, but there's this flicker of vulnerability in there, too. It's just the slightest edge, but I see it.

He's telling me he wants me and he loves me, but he's really asking. He's asking me to love him and not to leave him. He's asking me to be there for him and not to disappoint him. And I don't know how else to answer but "yes." Yes, I love you. Yes, I'll stay with you. Yes, I'll take care of you. Yes, you can trust me.

"You have me," I whisper, and that says it all.

He nods, and I see that confidence I love so much push the vulnerability out the window. He brings my palm to his lips to leave a soft, lingering kiss there. It's a kiss so sweet and simple in appearance, but I feel it so deeply. A slow flicker of heat trails from the spot where his lips meet my skin, through the veins and vessels of my arm, and onward. I feel it everywhere.

"I want to love you every day." He kisses my wrist. I smile. "When Rosie goes to college next year, I want you to move in with me." Another, on the inside of my elbow. I shiver. "I want to marry you someday." The curve of my breast. I bite my lip. "I want brown-eyed babies who have your smile." Three in quick succession along my collarbone. My hand moves to his hair, and I think I might be dying. "I want everything with you." My neck, my jaw, and his spot beneath my ear. My fingers tighten, and I hold him close. His last words are quiet, hot against my skin; I soak them in. "And I'm not afraid of any of it."

"I'm not afraid either," I cry, the tears falling unashamedly now in hot streaks against my skin. He wipes them away gently and then kisses me again, first on my dampened eyelids, then the corner of my trembling smile, and finally my bottom lip. He lingers there, drawing this softest kiss out with slow deliberation. I'm in pieces – wonderful, overwhelmed pieces – but I pull myself together to enjoy this. It's perfection – sweet, soft, and deep. It's the kind of kiss that leaves all others behind.

"I won't watch you walk away again," he whispers against me.

"Again?" We've never been apart. "What are you talking about?"

He tenses, then pulls away slightly. "Bella, I… I need to tell you a story."

His brow furrows, and he looks at me like I'm a little wild animal who might bolt at any moment. I run the backs of my fingers along his jaw, smiling when he closes his eyes.

"Don't worry, Jasper. Whatever it is… you're not going to scare me. This – us – this is permanent. I'm not running away."

I lean in to kiss his neck, his Adam's apple, and the three-day scruff along his jaw.

"I know you won't." He tightens his hold on my hips, then leans in to whisper in my ear, like we're sharing the most sacred of secrets. I can hear the smile in his voice, and my heart starts skipping double-dutch in response. "I'm going keep you forever, Bella."

"You are, are you?"

I watch his ears color ever so slightly. It's adorable, endearing, and I can understand why he loves making me blush so much.

"Yes, ma'am."

He leans back and brings a hand to my cheek, his fingers brushing so lightly over my skin that I have to fight the urge to close my eyes. His eyes won't let me. They're vibrant, the clearest gray-blue I've ever seen, and I can't look away. His thumb moves over my bottom lip, and I watch him smirk at the shaky breath I exhale.

"Jasper," I scold. I'm trying to play it cool, even though he has me flushed and breathless, and he knows it. "Don't call me 'ma'am.'"

He laughs.

"I love you, Bella."

He pulls me closer, and I kiss him. I kiss him because his words are sweet and I want to taste them. I kiss him because I love him. I kiss him because I want to keep him forever, too. I kiss him because his kisses are perfect and devastating. When I pull away, he has that smile on his face – the one I love and hate for what it does to me. The one I can never say no to. And God help me, he knows it. Because right now he's all confidence and swagger and man. Right now he's looking at me like he knows I love him too. Like he knows this is it for me. He's right, too. He's so right.

I nod, because I don't have words to say. There are too many but also not enough, and I don't know where I'd even begin. He understands anyway. He leans in to kiss the tear that's sliding down my cheek, then the corner of my lips, and then his salty, tear-stained lips meet mine – and this is heaven.

"Jasper?" I whisper.

"Mmm?"

"Tell me your story."

–***–*–**

_**September, 2009 (Jasper is 22, Rosie is 16)**_

_My dad always said that the first time he saw my mom, he knew. He said one minute he was living his life day to day, knowing there was a purpose for him but never really knowing what it was. He was young and ambitious, and he had his whole life ahead of him and no idea what that included. He said that all changed when he saw Mom. All of a sudden, he knew his purpose in life was her. To love her, marry her, and make her happy. He knew one day they'd have me and Rosie and that life would be good. Happy. Complete._

_Things weren't so simple for me. I already had my purpose, and that was Rosie. I had a life I was committed to. I knew where I was headed and I'd made my peace with that. I had a plan. I wanted to give her the life I had missed out on. I wanted her to be happier than I ever would be because that would be enough to make me happy. _

_The first time I saw Bella Swan was the first time I wondered if that would really be enough for me. I saw her at the print show at the end of our junior year. I didn't know her and I'd never had a class with her, but I watched her accept an award for one of her prints. I heard them call out her name, and I couldn't get it out of my head. I watched her tuck her hair behind her ear and then cross her arms over her chest. She looked embarrassed, and her foot was tapping a mile a minute while she posed with her print and the ribbon it won. She started to blush when the judges talked about why they selected her, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I didn't want to._

_It wasn't anything like what my dad told me. It wasn't planets aligning or the parting of the Red Sea, and I didn't have any ideas for grand gestures or a perfect future with her. It was simpler, but at the same time, so much more complicated._

_I knew I had to talk to her. I wanted to walk right up to her and introduce myself, and charm her as best I could. I wanted to talk to her about art and sports and my sister. I wanted to take her out for coffee and tuck her hair behind her ear for her when she got nervous. I wanted to kiss her until she wasn't nervous anymore. I wanted to kiss her until she blushed, until she couldn't breathe. I wanted to make her smile._

_I wanted to do a lot of things that I didn't have the courage to do. Instead, I watched her laugh with people who weren't me. I watched her talk to friends that I didn't know. I watched her blush at compliments I didn't give her. I watched her say goodbye, knowing her wave wasn't meant for me._

_I hesitated too long and I thought too much. I thought about my dad and how he would've pushed me to introduce myself like a proper gentleman. I thought about Garrett and how easy it would've been for him to walk up to someone he didn't know and then walk away with a new friend. I thought about my mom and how she lost everything that mattered to her and then stole what mattered to me. I thought about Rosie. She was the most important part of my life, and I knew I couldn't let anyone take me away from her. Even someone I wanted as much as I wanted Bella. I was afraid that the life I'd managed to make for us would all fall apart._

_In the end, it all boiled down to fear. It always did. I couldn't make myself put one foot in front of the other to walk over to her. I couldn't find the right words to make her look at me twice, let alone carry on a conversation. I didn't think I was ready for someone like her – because somehow I knew she'd be amazing – and I didn't know if I ever would be. I didn't know if I'd ever be someone she could take home to meet her mom and dad. I wanted her dad to smile when he shook my hand. I wanted her mom to hug me and say she'd heard so much about me. I wanted to be good enough for her, but I knew I wasn't._

_I let her walk away, but I regretted every step she took. I thought about her every day. I saw her everywhere, but it was never really her. Every time I heard a foot tapping in the library, I had to hunt it down. Not her. Every girl with long, soft-looking brown hair made me look twice. I saw brown eyes that were all wrong. Perfect lips that weren't right. I looked for her, but I never found her._

_I told Rosie about her. I had to, because even my little sister could tell something was up. She knew there hadn't really been other girls for me, but that this girl was different. She knew I was going to ruin it by over-thinking everything like I always did. She told me I was an dumbass and that I needed to make a move. My baby sister was giving me dating advice._

_Enough was enough. Bella was going to drive me crazy, and I'd never even talked to her. I decided right then that if I ever got the chance again, I wouldn't be such a fucking coward. I'd grow a pair and make my dad proud. I'd make Rosie proud. _

_I'd walk right up to her and introduce myself like a man should. I'd get her to tell me her name, even though I already knew it, because I wanted to hear her say it. I wanted to hear her say mine, over and over again. I wanted to talk to her, listen to her, touch her, and kiss her. God, I wanted to kiss her until she couldn't breathe. I wanted to watch her blush while I whispered her name in her ear. I wanted to take her out for coffee and… fuck, just be_ normal_ for once. _

_I told myself if I could pull it together and be a man, I could be the man for her. I could be good enough. For her, I had to be._

_I didn't think I'd ever get the chance, but I did._

_I walked into my first class of senior year, and she was the first thing I saw. There were three empty seats in the room. One of them was at her table, and I didn't let myself think twice about where my seat was going to be. I put one foot in front of the other, and finally, I was standing in front of her. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. She looked strong. Determined. She was looking down at her camera, and her foot was tapping just like I remembered. The longer I stood there, the slower it got, until she was finally still._

_I realized I was staring like a creeper at that point. _

_"Excuse me, miss?" I asked. Her eyes jerked up to meet mine, and I was a goner. She looked over my face slowly, and the corner of her mouth drew up into a smile. I raised my eyebrow at her. She was so busted._

"_Just Bella. My name is Bella," she said, so softly I hardly heard her._

"_Just Bella," I teased, ducking my head to hide my grin. "I'm Jasper Whitlock. Is this seat taken?"_

_She shook her head, and I took my seat. She caught me looking at her again, and I had to turn away before I embarrassed myself. Something was happening, and I wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was just nerves. All I knew was it was like my whole body was on alert, waiting for something. I kept glancing at her, and she busted me every time. I couldn't help it. My blood was pumping, my heart was beating faster, and something in the pit of my stomach was getting heavier the longer we sat there. It felt almost like I was having an episode, except I was still in control. It was fucking fantastic, and I wanted more._

_I was so close I could have reached out and touched her if I'd wanted to, and fuck… I really wanted to. It was like some invisible force was pulling my hands toward her. She kept looking at me, and I started to worry she could read my mind. I started tapping my fingers on the table – anything to keep them occupied. I was thinking about things I shouldn't have been: about talking to her, touching her, kissing her, and laying her out on top of our lab table. I couldn't help it. _

_I wanted it all._

_I smiled when I heard her tapping her toes under the table, and smiled bigger when I realized I was drumming my fingers to her rhythm. It almost made me wonder if she could be as nervous as I was. I looked up at her, and she was smiling down at her camera. It looked ancient. I pulled my own out and snuck a quick glance around the room. We were probably the only ones in the class with something so outdated, but I didn't care. They didn't make cameras like they used to anymore, and mine was a classic. It was consistent and trustworthy, and it didn't do anything without my permission. No surprises. I liked that._

_I heard her laugh and looked up. She was laughing at my camera. I started to panic. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I would have been better off not approaching her, not killing the fantasy. She was perfect, in my eyes, and she was about to fuck it all up._

_But then she smiled, holding up her own classic, and my panic disappeared. One smile and I was gone. I was so fucked._

_"I'm a Nikon. I see you're a part of the Dark Side."_

_"If by Dark Side, you mean Infinitely Better Side, yes, I'm a Canon," I said, a shit-eating grin on my face. _

_"It looks pretty old," she said. Before the words were all the way out of her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut, clearly embarrassed. I watched her cheeks slowly color, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I wanted to reach out and touch her. My hand was already halfway there before I stopped myself._

_"It is, just a little older than me," I said. "My dad gave it to me just before he died. I was eight."_

_And then she was gone. I was gone. I was twelve years old again, a fresh bruise on my cheek and my camera in my hand. I was pushing Rosie higher and higher on the swing, because that's what I did. I took care of Rosie. I pretended everything was okay while my body screamed that it wasn't. I put a smile on my face when all I wanted to do was cry. Rosie was so real right then, too. It was like I was there. I could feel my hands pushing against her shoulders while she swung back and forth. The sun was hot on my neck, and I could feel the bruise blooming on my cheek. It was all so real. _

_And then just as fast as it appeared, it was gone, and Bella was talking to me again._

_"I'm so sorry. My mom died, too. When I was born."_

_I nodded, confused for a minute. It had happened again. Another flashback. They'd been happening more often over the last year, and I'd just had one in front of Bella. Fuck. What if she could tell? She was looking at me like she knew. It wasn't pity, though. It was understanding. She just told me her mom died, of course she fucking understood. _

_Our teacher cleared his throat to get the class's attention, and she turned to pay attention. My stomach sank. I couldn't do it. I would never be normal enough to make this work._

_It didn't matter what I thought, in the end. It didn't matter how scared I was to give myself a chance, or how worried I was I'd hurt her. It wasn't up to me. It was all her._

_She knew me better than I knew myself. _

_Two weeks later, I walked into the darkroom, totally unprepared for what would happen. I knew she was in there the minute I walked through the pitch-black walkway. I could feel her. I walked straight over to her station, and I saw her go still. She felt me, too. She had to. It was like the closer I got, the closer I wanted to be. My skin was aching to touch hers. As nervous as I was, I knew somehow she'd be the one to make it all go away. _

_I was still several feet away when she called out my name, turning to face me. "Jasper?"_

_It was so dark; I could barely see anything but the edges of her. _

"_Bella," I answered, ducking my head. My dad would've appreciated the gesture. I learned it from him._

_She smiled at me, and I felt more confident because of it. I stepped closer until she had to look up to make eye contact. She was so much smaller than me, but the way she was looking at me almost brought me to my knees. It wouldn't take much, at that point. I was tired of dancing around things. I wanted her. I didn't fucking deserve her, but I was past caring. The way she was looking at me, I knew she wanted me, too. _

_She was so beautiful, even under the red lights. They made her skin so pale I could almost see through it. Her eyes were huge and dark, and I was lost in them. I clenched my hands, trying to keep them at my sides instead of on her. Once I touched her, I didn't think I'd ever be able to stop. She looked down at her feet, and it was all I could do not to lift her chin and make her look at me again. _

_"I've been waiting for you," she whispered._

_"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. All she had to do was ask, and I'd give her anything she wanted._

_She looked up at me again and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. I stared. I couldn't help it. I wanted my lips on hers. I wanted her teeth on my bottom lip. I wanted to kiss her until she couldn't breathe. I wanted it all._

_Before I got any further in my fantasy, she grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me closer. I was so close I could feel her breath, hot against my chest. I could smell her hair. I reached out carefully to put my hands on her hips, flexing my fingers against her soft curves. God, she felt so good. She stood up as tall as she could and pulled me down until she could reach me, and then she kissed me. At first I was so shocked that I couldn't move. Then, I smiled._

_For once I just let go and did what felt good. And fuck, I'd kissed a girl here and there, but nothing like this. I pulled her tighter against me, and I nearly lost it when her hands started tugging my hair. I had to get closer. Before I realized what I was doing, I had her backed up against the enlarger station. She bit my lip, and I muttered "fuck" as I started working my way from her lips to her neck, and then along her soft jawline. I got to her ear and whispered her name, just like I'd wanted to for so long. I felt her body relax into mine when she heard it, and I smiled. I had everything I wanted, right there in front of me._

_Her hands moved back down my sides, to my waist, and then started moving underneath the edge of my shirt. I took it as an invitation, sliding my fingers under the edge of hers until my hands were on her skin, and holy fuck but her skin was the softest thing I'd ever touched. I was almost too caught up in her to notice when her hands started moving up my back. Almost. _

_I tensed, but she didn't notice, and then her hands were on my scars. My fucking scars that my mother gave me with my father's belt. The scars that had kept me from ever getting close enough to a girl for her to realize they were there – to realize just how messed up I really was. The scars that kept me from playing sports in high school because I was too chicken shit to take my shirt off in the locker room. I hated those scars so much it made my blood boil. I could feel it churning inside of me and pounding in my ears. I gasped for air and tried to pull away from her. I could feel myself sinking. My heart was beating way too fucking fast and my vision was getting dark. I couldn't breathe. I was going to have another episode, right there in Bella's arms. She hung onto me as tight as she could, but I could have pushed her away if I'd really wanted to. I didn't. I let her hold onto me, and her fingers dug into my skin almost painfully. I didn't want her to stop._

_I was still on the verge of panic until I looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and scared, and I would've given anything to make that look disappear. Anything. I wasn't sure if I could do this – if I could try to be with her. Try to be good for her. I was barely hanging on, and we'd barely even begun. I didn't want to be some regret she looked back on. My life was so complicated. She'd realize what a mistake she'd made and she'd leave me. Like my mother. Like my father. I'd end up hurting her, and then losing her would destroy me._

_But God help me, I wanted her. _

"_Jasper, please," she begged. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore."_

_I nodded, pulling her back against my chest. It was too late. I had to try. _

"_Bella," I said. "Beautiful Bella." _

"_I can feel what you're feeling, all the time," she whispered. "I know you feel it too."_

"_I do, Bella. I really do." It was true. Everything was intense with her, and I'd never experienced anything like it. Her touch was electric, and being close to her made me want more. When she was nervous, I was nervous. When she was excited, so was I. Somehow I knew if I could make her happy, I'd be happy too. I took a deep breath and tried to explain. "I don't know what I'm doing here. It's been me and Rosie against the world for so long; I don't know how to let someone in. I've wanted you… since the first time I saw you. I've never felt like this before. I've been a survivor, I've been a big brother and a protector… but I don't know how to love or trust people anymore. I'm in pieces, Bella. It happened a long time ago, and you shouldn't have to –"_

_She cut me off, pressing her fingers to my lips until I was quiet. I tried to back away, but she wouldn't let me. Her eyes were wet when she spoke again, and I couldn't stand that I was upsetting her. _

_"I know you've been hurt, but you can't run away from me. I see it in your face, every time you're in pain. I feel it, too, so much that it might as well be my own. I've never felt this way either, and I want to live it. I've been hiding behind the camera for too long, watching life happen. I've been too afraid to let people really see me. But I can't do that anymore. Not with you. You deserve a life and so do I, and I'm not going to watch you walk away from me."_

_I didn't know what to say, but before it mattered she was kissing me again. This time I didn't hesitate. I kissed her for all I was worth, and I felt her respond. She wanted me, and I wasn't about to argue with her anymore. I was nervous and excited, and freaked the fuck out, but it was too late to walk away. I needed her. _

_I needed her lips on mine and her arms around me. I needed to touch her and hear her call out my name. I needed her to stay with me, to give me a reason to turn my life around. I needed a reason to enjoy life. I needed her to give me something to look forward to – something to think about when I went to bed at night and when I woke up in the morning. I just needed her… whatever she'd give me._

_Our kiss was desperate and needy, and fucking wonderful. I couldn't get close enough to her, and I had to make myself calm down before I went too far. Our kiss slowed, but even then it was deep and… something I didn't even understand. It was everything. I hugged her close, and she wrapped her arms around me. I finally pulled away and kissed her forehead. I could feel her heart beating a million miles a minute, and mine was too. I rubbed her back softly until I felt her slowly relax. Eventually I could breathe again. I already missed kissing her._

_She had to understand what she was getting herself into. This – whatever this was – wasn't going to be easy. I'd been messed up for way too long for anything to be easy. She was different. I could tell. She was going to have to be patient with me._

_"I've been in the shadows for so long," I said. "I don't know how to live in your light."_

_She laid her head on my chest. My heart was still pounding so hard, and I hoped she could feel it. I hoped she realized that it beat for her._

_"I want to show you," she whispered._

_I wanted her to show me._

_I wanted a life. I wanted it to be with her._

_She laid her hand over my heart, and I hoped she was right._

_I hoped I could learn._

_For the first time in a long time, I felt hope._

_Not hope for Rosie – that was never my problem._

_Hope for myself._

_I felt her heart beating wildly against my chest; I wanted it to beat for me._

_I smiled, and pulled her closer._

_

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**This is the last chapter, but I'll post a short epilogue soon. Thanks to all of you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. :)**

**Thank you so much to Lucette212 and Legna989 for being the world's loveliest betas. They're amazing and they make everything better. **

**I've started posting the outtakes as a separate story, so if you haven't found them yet then head over to my profile. There are a few more in the works. :)**


	29. Epilogue

"**Never have I found the limits of the photographic potential. Every horizon, upon being reached, reveals another beckoning in the distance. Always, I am on the threshold." **

– **W. Eugene Smith**

**March 6, 2017 (Jasper is 29)**

I lay my daughter on my chest, holding her the way I remember seeing my dad with Rosie all those years ago. I still remember when we brought her home from the hospital. He took that whole week off of work to be home with us. When Mom was tired, he'd let her nap, and he'd bring Rosie out and let her fall asleep on his chest. It didn't matter how fussy she was; she'd settle right down every time. He said it was because she could feel his heart, and it comforted her. He'd rub her back while he helped me read her bedtime stories, and in no time she'd fall right to sleep. I remember wondering how such a strong man could be so gentle with something so breakable. It seemed so easy for him. But now I understand, because holding my daughter is effortless, instinctual. A part of me wishes he were here to see me right now.

I always thought babies started out bald, but Charlotte has tons of hair. It's dark like her momma's and curly like mine used to be. Her eyes look brown to me, but Bella swears they'll be blue like mine. She looks so much like the baby pictures Charlie brought with him of Bella. He took two weeks off so he could come stay with us, and we can hardly get him to put her down. He keeps catching Bella calling the baby "Charlie," and he won't allow it. Bella thinks it's cute; Charlie says she's too pretty to be anything but Charlotte.

Rosie comes by every day to see Charlotte. They're already best friends, and there isn't much that makes me smile like watching them together. Seeing the woman Rosie has grown into makes me confident that my little girl is going to be alright. I'm not going to mess this up. But it also means that some day she'll grow up and go to college, just like her aunt, and I'll have to say goodbye. She'll have friends I've never met and go places I've never been. She'll have her own life – just like Rosie. The only difference, of course, is that Charlotte won't date until she's at least thirty-five. Possibly forty.

My mom has been by to meet Charlotte once, the day we came home from the hospital. Charlie still hasn't warmed up to her, so he made himself scarce. The rest of us are still trying. Some days it's good and some days it's not so good, but I don't regret giving her another chance.

Between Charlie and Rosie, it's a miracle if I ever get to hold my own daughter. It's late right now, though, so the house is quiet. Bella's asleep in our bed, and hopefully Charlotte will be asleep soon, too. I can feel even the tiniest movements of her little body under my hand. I can feel her heart beat, so much faster than mine. I can feel her breathe, and the little puffs of air tickle my bare chest. I try to hold in my laughs so I won't disturb her. I shake a little from the effort, and so does she. My hand covers most of her tiny body, and she relaxes against me when I rub her back. She really likes that. Her breathing starts to slow, and I reach for the book beside me.

_In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of… a cow jumping over the moon_.

The words come to me without really even reading them. I've known these words for a long time. I remember happy nights, cuddled in my bed with my mom and later my sister. I remember sitting on my dad's knee in his armchair by the fireplace. I remember reading it to Rosie even on nights when, at the time, I had felt so alone.

I remember kissing Bella's hand the night she met my sister. I remember the way the moon reflected in her eyes, and losing myself in them. I remember realizing that night that I loved her.

_Goodnight room, goodnight moon._

Her breaths are even and slow now, and I think she's asleep. The last time I held something so brand new and breakable, I had no idea what lay ahead for us. I remember looking at Rosie, thinking how fragile she was and how scared I was that I was going to hurt her. In this moment, as I look at my daughter, I have no fear.

I know that for me and Rosie, being breakable didn't stop us from being strong. Being breakable isn't the same as being weak, and the strength it takes to pick up the pieces and make a life out of them is the strength that matters. The strength and tenacity it took for Bella to come into our lives without fear or hesitation – to love us – is something I'll always be grateful for.

_Goodnight stars, goodnight air._

I know now what it means to love someone more than you could ever love yourself. Rosie has taught me about sacrifice, strength and responsibility. Bella has taught me redemption, hope, and love. I know now that I have nothing to fear anymore. Under my hand, I have everything I ever wanted and never thought I'd have. I'd given up hope of a future like this a long time ago. I'd given up on really living and come to terms with basic survival – just getting by on getting by. I didn't need my own life; I just needed to make sure Rosie had one. I picked up all the pieces and never thought twice about it. I figured if I could do it – if I could keep it together, for Rosie – she might have all of this. A life. A family. Everything she wanted. I never hoped for myself.

I think back to that day in the darkroom, and Bella's hand over my heart. Every day she shows me that I'm worth it, to her. She shows me what it means to really live, and to do so without fear. I think I had always been waiting for her. I had survived one day at a time, waiting for her to come along and light up my darkness.

_Goodnight noises everywhere._

I'm brought out of my thoughts by soft footsteps and a slow ache that starts somewhere in my chest. I know she's behind me, watching me. I smile, knowing some things never change. Even after almost eight years, she still can't sneak up on me. I can feel her coming from a mile away. She creeps closer, trying to be stealthy. When I know she's standing just behind me, I speak.

"I thought by now you knew better than to try to sneak up on me."

"Who said anything about sneaking? I was just enjoying the view."

I can picture her smile just from the sound of her voice. I've never needed to see her to know her. I've always known her. Without turning around, I can picture her behind me. I see the way she smiles at me, and the dimple in her left cheek. I know she'll be barefoot and wearing one of my old t-shirts. She likes how comfortable they are; I love the way they hang down just below the curve of her hips.

"My apologies, Mrs. Whitlock. May I offer you a seat?"

"Always the gentleman." She laughs quietly.

I open my free arm to her so she can slide onto my lap. She kisses the scars on the side of my throat, and I hum in appreciation. She kisses our daughter's cheek before she settles in against me. My arm tightens around her, and she smiles. She still fits here perfectly: her head against my chest, her hand over my heart.

"I think I could get used to this," she whispers.

"I already am."

Her fingers trace over the scars on my chest, and I can't believe I used to think they were so prominent. None of my scars have faded, but they don't bother me like they used to. They aren't ugly reminders of my past anymore. They're reminders of her. Bella's lips on my skin. Her favorite places to touch me. Her soft fingers tracing my roughness. She doesn't just accept them – she loves them because they're a part of me.

Charlie once told me that life doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be right. I never expected my life to be perfect. My life before Bella was so far from it. My life with Bella has been close. It's been highs and lows, good days and bad days, and always knowing tomorrow will be better. It's been passionate arguments and even more passionate making up. It's been patience, devotion, and wondering how a guy like me ever got so lucky. Because I am the luckiest. It's always work, but nothing that's worth it ever comes easy. And my life with Bella is always worth it. It's never been perfect, but it's _always_ been right. And that's perfect for us.

She's quiet for awhile, and I wonder if she's asleep. Then she presses her hand to my chest, just over my heart.

"I can feel it," she whispers. "It's beating so fast."

She moves her hand just enough to kiss the skin underneath it.

"It's for you, beautiful. Always for you."

"I love you, Jasper."

I smile, and pull both of my girls closer.

–*–*–

"**When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing."**

– **Rabindranath Tagore

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**Thank you so much to all of you for sticking with me through this story. Even though sometimes it's been really difficult to get through, this has been so much fun for me to write. You guys have been amazing readers. Your support, encouragement, and reviews have inspired and motivated me. I couldn't have asked for a better experience with my first story, so thank you so so much for going through all of this with me. You guys are amazing.**

**I really don't think I can thank my betas enough. Lucette212 and Legna989 both beta'd this epilogue. Justaskalice and Lucette212 have been so supportive throughout this entire story… which ended up taking a little over a year for me to write and post. Legna989 has been here for last-minute advice and beta skills whenever I've asked her. They've all been wonderful and lovely, and they've put up with my insecurity and last-minuteness. I love them so much and I never would have gotten this done without them. **

**I have to again thank ElleCC and LaViePastiche for hosting the For the Love of Jasper contest, because I never would have started this without that opportunity. I won't name everyone, but my friends in this fandom are amazing. A few of them helped me with the one shot, and all of them have gotten me through writing this with WCs and encouragement of all different kinds. Thank you to all of you.**

**There are still three FGB outtakes that will post in the next several weeks, so keep an eye out for those if you're interested. My first FGB piece was a one shot written for ElleCC, and it's already posted my profile. I'm also doing a Jasper-centric Twilight 25 entry for round four. If you haven't noticed by now, I really do love Jasper.**


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